Sitting in the indigo light of morning and realizing the random collection of crazy hurts accumulated over time. The longing for all the impossible things; like nostalgia for something that never happened; a soft yearning for what could have, might have been but never was; regret over not having become someone or something else. They’re all surreal half tones of our consciousness, our being sometimes. If you listen to them it can seem that life is an ongoing sunset when it’s really an eternal sunrise into the possibility of everything. So I am become the morning - excellent and fair. Peace.
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 14:32:08 +0000
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