Wind walking on tiptoe through the trees, finding pathways strayed from reason.
Following dimensions of yesteryear, life begins fragrantly blossoming new ideas.
Reaching up – picking those that are ripe.
Looking down, toes scuffling through those of old, lying on the ground with age – over-ripened – yet, still containing the blessed age of wisdom.
Enlightening my morning, stepping up a mood of enjoyment,and filling me with elation.Soundly focusing life into a musical history of memories.
Sensing all factions as they are divulged intrepidly in quiet aptitudes of being.
Taking steps further into catacombs,falling downward into deep pits of sadnessand grief.Staying still, picturing the emptiness,fulfilled through the loneliness of humannature and left alone to figure out whereto go from here.
Intellect is being challenged and opened wide as all sorts of images are being created in my head.Figurative pictures hammering away musically and quickly, flowing out of the ink as fast as I think.
Inherently, I acquiesce to it’s rhythm and voice as it takes me ever further from life’s shore to my destiny, given me from our Lord.
