~A storm is nature's way of kicking up dust, showing us the dark corners we've neglected so we can clean them out and begin anew. And sometimes storms are simply there to throw us off balance, to change the angle from which we view life and force us to see things from a different vantage point... even if that means looking up from our bottoms, mouth gaping wide~
Wild as the ocean, free as a mountain sitting motionless. Soft as a storm blooming in full.
Wild as the ocean. Free as a mountain sitting motionless. Soft as a storm blooming in full.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
I've decided, at least for right now, come tomorrow it may change, that I am no longer going to wait.
I'm moving on, building out.
I've sown seeds, tilled the soil and watered the spirits and still...not.
I've donated blood, given pieces of my heart, sides of my flesh.
Yet somehow enough, is not.
Am I doing it wrong?
Giving too much?
Or not enough?
Maybe not right. Maybe not now.
How much is left and will any remain?
So, I'm not going to wait anymore.
I will mend, sew, puzzle and plot.
I will break and repair, sift and create.
Sort and sort and sort until I have built a mountain so high I cannot see the other side.
From thin air and dust, I will make.
And on breath baited, I will not wait.
There is room, there is space. I am open, in a sense.
But it's not for sale, not anymore.
I will tonight, try and keep up this fight.
But come tomorrow, don't be sore, I may change my mind.
That's just the way the wind moves in and blows things around.