dancing flame.
talks of brevity where i am finding the language of grace to describe what is explosive to some; chaotic to many but how do you find the wording to place a stirring that never stops. how can i convey that still waters are my home; a resting place i come to eternally but not until i get my garments a little dirty; not until i ruffle a few feathers and surely not until i watch a burning furry signaling what’s to come in its place. i am positively, hopefully and entirely enamoured by the construct of constructing. building a new and connecting dots for worlds we have yet to see. the midwife to what was forgotten because it simply felt impossible. that is what i do and do best — hop upon my flying disc and whisk myself away to do the work. to fashion something out of nothing and then, and only then can a sanctuary serve me. a resting place is just what it is when every waking moment is declared holy. what’s sacred to an altar? the answer is everything and i am finding the wording to string together daily to position myself to this. what is boundless cannot be contained. this is a declaration to what is eternally free in you and me.
