each morning rising with an almost unexpected spark
this wonderlife
filled & emptied
filled & emptied
joy to sorrow to pain to stasis to sorrow to joy
each breath a surprise
scraping against the tide
each movement a tender flight
how can we hold such multitudes at once?
our human magic a mystery
unknown to some
celebrated in the smaller things like the blues of a June morning
the slumber of a dog
the smell of a coming storm
becoming lost & found to the empty & full
becoming closer to our younger self . . . so wrapped in the velvet of tomorrows
brushing tangibly viscerally against moments past
(i can smell 1968)
people past
wonder & magic
sorrow & pain past
Oh how the veil thins
Oh the slumber of a dog
and all that remains ...
let go
hello morning . . .
