Dance with the clouds.
Walking this path more often than not gasping for breath, it feels possible.
If I just make it that final mile, those last few steps for ascension, impossible seems inevitable.
The sun has moved, it’s no longer rising.
My legs have tremors pulsing from thigh to toe.
What if this is it?
I am only meant to witness, not participate.
Would it bring fulfillment enough?
Every cloud is a piece of your puzzle.
You can try to capture it or
Be grateful to witness it.
Sometimes, when I can’t fight, it all becomes too much.
The day is crushing me, tied down by expectation and requirements.
It’s more than a physical or mental exhaustion.
I hear their thoughts and they are not welcome.
The clock becomes useless, everything stops, when the day is long.
Allow me to float away.
Winter, summer, spring, and fall
despite what is said and too often believed- a flower can bloom anytime.
Within, that’s where the beauty is found, with all its color stripped.
Given a glimpse of sun,
given a drip of water,
given a chance,
the roots take hold.
Capture it in your mind, memories forever give the kind of justice a photograph fails to do.
The power is overwhelming to my senses.
The sound it makes as it crashes into or crushes everything in it’s path reverberates inside of me.
To hitch a ride or to fight, the decision isn’t as simple as it appears.
For years I would have run away.
Afraid of the cold,
Unsure of the pressure,
Captivated by the other shore.
My lungs quiver in anticipation. My souls knows there’s no other option.
First a tie,
Then my legs,
The current embraces me to the next destination.
Fall is coming, all that was lush and green will fall under death’s trance.
A temporary respite from the living. A momentary invitation to dance in death’s shadow.
Does nature get a chance to know what lies beyond? Is that why it fights so hard every spring?
If given the choice to know all, to have all the mysteries revealed I’d fight like hell.
No mysteries- No satisfaction.
Sometimes even the light needs support.
Nothing more solid than an old tree firmly rooted along the riverbed.
It offers a platform, a blank canvas for the light to manipulate.
With each passing moment the sun sets further to the west allowing the light to come to the forefront.
Then and only then,
If and only if
you are willing.
The sparkle will show the unrepeatable contours of the bark.
Easily missed but it’s shelter allows for everything else.
Never underestimate the shell in nature, or