Vivacious serenity in lilac.
Violin full of melodies.
Jagged edges of reality piercing me in all the wrong places.
Tattered memories fluttering on clotheslines.
The wind is chasing gossamer leaves down premonition street.
Winter is on its way.
The streets are deserted and dirty but I love this place.
Maybe I don't love it then but I will later.
Or maybe it happens at first site. Does it matter?
Why do some things taste so good? People too. And cigarettes.
I guess cigarettes are things... things, things things. So many things everywhere.
I want a cigarette.
Some days nothing matters. I like those days.
Some days are hazy and soft. Some are sunny and severe.
And occasionally there is a soft sunny day. Those are rare.
I'm nostalgic for fall. Why do I love her so much?
Perhaps cos she best reflects my inner landscape.
The grey and stormy terrain of my being. The nakedness, the teary skies.
She gives me what I need, the abundance of negative space for the mind to expand without getting snagged.
The quieting down, the darkening, the thinning of the veils between the worlds. That’s when you are most likely to be invited in for a cup of rain.
So sip slow and pay attention.
Some things are only spoken once.
I take it all in and I weave my nets and cast my spells while waiting for my other favorite sister. Winter.
And when she arrives she brings with the ultimate stillness and that’s when I truly rest.