Sometimes you simply and suddenly realize you can walk.
Won't tell.
Fields of grey.
Full moon.
Headlamp.
Boy.
Girl.
Dog.
Ink made of Whiskey and Madrone Ash.
Sewing needle and a No.2 pencil.
Standard issue.
Magic sings just below the surface of every moment.
Unleash.
or the NSA.
Likely both.
In black and white.
Robbed of the satisfaction of the kill.
Bloodless.
Motionless.
Dreamtime stands still with
shift.
From that metamorphosis,
this metamorphosis,
comes a new strength
from a source
infinite
previously untapped.
There's a comfort in the honesty of a small town.
Fertile bounty.
Warmth still in full swing.
Arrived in the darkness, led by the Moon.
Wake to yurt and Dancing Madrone.
Leaving home again.
How many times has this been done?
Will de done?
Leaving to
Arrive to
Leave.
Destination(s) roughly known.
Purpose not known in the slightest.
The only term resounding: Surrender.
(1) a. The power to enforce laws, exact obedience, command, determine, or judge.
How do you want to be?
Who do you want to be?
Who have I been?
To yourself and to others.
Sometimes accidentally we become something else.
Do you want to be somebody that you, yourself and others can trust?
Who do you really want to be?
Have you been that to yourself and others?
