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Monday, February 4, 2019

Wading Through White Fields



Photo by Deb

Wading through white fields, the echo of no-thing between frozen toes, those corners holler for attention, having been thrown back to bed with thought-less care.

“G’night little Hated One.”
“Why hate, me?”
“Your existence ignites my darkness in ways that make me scream.”
“Yet, it is not I who have done this.”
“Truly-true oh, Hated One, that is truly-true—unfortunate and true.”
“Must it be this way?”
“I know no other way to be.”
“Can you not learn?”
“That is impossibly-impossible.”
“Meaning, it is possible, and the impossible is within you.”
“Ahhh, Hated One, this is exactly why you have been left. The truth in you will not die, no matter how much we wish it to be dead.”
“I know no other way to be.”
“And that little one is where we woefully agree.”

Not-Yet-Mine



Photo by Deb

A Flock Of Cardinals In A Barren Bush Shivered With Joy As I Drove By



Oh, that they would have waited, as I could’ve joined them, become a red-winged one and flown alongside. Instead, I watched their freedom escape me on wings not yet mine.

Breathing in Multiples


Photo by Deb

Thoughts Originating From Separate Rooms Do Not Always Agree


Why should they?

These meanderings were never intended for cohesion—differences the point, creativity and survival needing multiple patterns to breathe.

Is is…IS and that is how it’s meant to be.

Intrinsically random blessings are the worst and…the very best kind.