ofenchant's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- lightening
It's what I do. I always wake up in blueberry myth and cascade into violet red dreams twenty hours later. It's impossible to be exact and to be me and to be ready, waiting, pouncing, catching that mouse. Sometimes you wait for moments like leaves falling, tumbling, cascading down invisible rivers of when and you realize it's not as quiet as you thought it was. Nothing means anything. But it does. And so you tumble and you search and dig and crawl through mud to get there and you see this shining light of hope and it lingers and you linger with it before it fades into a shadow falling over its everything its being and you know that I don't make much sense lately. But's it's fun to flow and nestle in meaningless dribble. Like clouds or cotton. Soft and light. A melody without music. Because life is imperfect. A simple fact. Quiet, smiling understanding in the face of this reality in the delicate hours of the morning. Later in the day it all sinks in. He lingers in the doorway, wags his tail and stiffens when he sees Gomez. He quietly turns around and patters back out into the yard, hoping to be invisible. The only advice you should listen to is from your self. So go ask someone else. 11:30 p.m. - 2007-03-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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