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Time is all there is, and of course, as aways, never is there enough. Selfish as we are, it is again, as always, taken for granted. Don’t care who you are, we are all guilty. Take those moments before night, relish them, savor their flavor, and taste a sunset.
Every, each and all, sunset is one never seen again. No matter how much, how often, or whatever joy we celebrate in them, they are gone. Celebrate them as unique. On the other hand.
Each, every one of them, sunrise, brings a sense of peace, a heart swell of joy, thankfully grateful, in the hope of this new light. Occasionally, a wetness fills these eyes, knowing another day begins. There is hope, again. Today can be made, shaped, fashioned, sculpted. No matter how temporary, it gifts us with expectation, goals, and daydreamed plans.
In reference to time and how we use it, there are words, thoughts, and ideas to reflect our present moments. We have traveled some distance to embrace our current lives. We share our sunsets and sunrises.
Right now, the transition of this life has not been contemplated, has not been measured with much accuracy. The state of being is vibrational, and no settling has taken place. The power and marvel at the course of our lives is a large wheel still rolling, shifting, progressing. There is still an awe, and marvel at this state of being.
The realization that a simple nudge and a decision to give energy a push, events one foresaw have expressed themselves; this has given silence a home. In other words, this writer is speechless at how the determination of making events occur has brought them to life. It is a power not grasped for some time. Knowing Sue and finding our lives intertwining as we imagined it, has become our new reality.
We are without expression. Not enough dust has gathered, nor settled. Oh yes, there is joy in our togetherness, there is much laughter, and much peace as two into one combine. Yes, too, we are each our own. Having the privilege of living this many years, there is baggage, and experience. We are grateful.
All our time apart has brought us together. There is no other conveyance, no other communication, no other articulation, as complete, as succinct, or as expressive. Words fail, though the heart knows. A ripe pear slurps the mouth with this much satisfaction.
As the wheel turns we find new. We find old, we remember, and we ring our bells in recognition of our common ground. We are grateful.
There is no flood of words. There is no pouring out as one usually expects in these moments. There are long silences between writes. Pulling quills, feels like this. Compact writing has walls, barriers, obstacles of mind. This writer has made sparse prose a near reality of a poets’ shorthand.
Joni Mitchell knows. Pete Aleshire has a window into this practice. However, Ray Bradbury gave me permission, unknowing guidance, and grateful inspiration.
Transition continues, as always, as it should. Time has no patience, as always, it moves at its pace, and we, as always, find ourselves out, of time.
I am grateful for your visit. Thank you.