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It was the shape of a fingernail…

hanging low in the sky, the ethereal moon crept behind some whispy clouds. A pillow of smoke lazily slithered from my mouth. It was cold outside, cold enough for my breath to wave back at me. I think about attempting to leave behind my conditioned mind. I could open up to the universe and see what is lurking in the shadows between me and that fingernail in the sky…. what can I find under ageless rocks? or right in front of my face? This vapor, what is it saying as it waves its slinky fingers in all directions? Where does it go? I usually write stories and give characters names, but they aren’t characters at all…they are me through a different looking glass. The rhythm track of a raindrop in the gutter makes me dance…my Grandpa Jay used to tell me that he could see beauty in anything, I think he was wise.

Krystal Light

One fortuitous sun-up in May, I awoke midday. I wandered through a park... until it was dark. Passed by this fellow named Pete, it was fate that we should meet. I'm a writer with a voice, we all have that choice.... Shifting Circles allows us all to share... for mother earth, everyone should care. I have a story, long and deep, but it is the future we need to reap.

This Post Has One Comment

  1. Peter 2 Mar 2012

    Beautiful. They are you through a different looking glass. The isolation you experienced in the spirtually charged Altai….there are no accidents in life, and I doubt few in Siberia, when makes and follows a vision path. Something for all of us to learn…there are no moments that do not teach if the student is ready.

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