we write to show, or to express, and we're all different (I guess) in how it feels to feel desire or when we might see blue in fire. and while I struggle here with rhyme, there's others deep in story time; or gazing on a lone wind chime as it provides its music -- with precious anniversaries, or working through PTSD; or even drawing from a well of weekend stories we might tell -- it's been a month for glories, no? with perfect evenings, all aglow, and for us types who need a fix there's even been some good chex mix for we, the discombobulated, sunsets that we've celebrated; breathing in a dawning day, or wordlessly pass time away.
it's hard when you're a pepper
and sometimes you just feel
that we're all on a diet
but you must serve a meal.
for every "new beginning"
comes to us at a cost,
and without mice and wooden spoons,
i know that i'd
covid's hit us pretty hard, we have to cope in different ways: like fixing things as best we can, or organizing moving days, or bathing in the frosty calm, or pausing to do some qi gong, or working puzzles about books, or paddling through lakes, or brooks or watching rom-coms on the way, or living through election day: we each survive as best we can (especially with cats to hand!)
it's interesting what people do, i find it stimulative; for using what we have at hand enables the creative and when the spark is found it is a wonder to behold: but when the mishaps reappear it can get kind of old.
some write from a lifelong effort to address a wrong they see; while others find a special space in nights with no tv -- we hope our kids remember all the things that we did for them: for we make memories, and it is better to adore them
so hey, i'm not letting the butter thing go. i read and loved this, so you know; and Ra, it's not just this month you host: it is that i now know the hidden work most.
so one last look at where we've been: at crowded pages, full of vim, for golden kisses, warm and right, and frozen moonlight walks, last night. of prime directives, thoughtfully; of melted minds, within the sea of things that change our lives, when we count backwards from eternity. the ashes of dead stars we are. and humor can take us as far as we can go, when finding faults can keep us locked within our vaults but in the end, it's just for fun: i'm sure that i've left out someone who wasn't on the master page so don't resent me, please, or rage if you have read all of this way and do not see your blog today. i did the best i could, you see with all this time insomnia gives me