Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Every stone.

September 8, 2017

 

I'm not feeling very brave these days, Petals. Maybe it's something in the air. Maybe it's something in the water, the moonlight, the winds, the earth. I don't know, but I do know I'm not sleeping and the world feels frazzled, electric. Like no matter what steps we take, how far up the ladder we reach, the posts keep sinking into the mud, so the view stays the same. Day in, day out. 

 

I used to have talismans--surefire tokens of, if not luck, then hope or strength or courage, but they've lost their stuffing, their balance, their weight somewhere along the way. And, somehow, I've been too inwardly-focused to notice. 

 

How do these things happen? How do we forget? How do we become, gradually, but suddenly so insubstantial?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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This Quiet Earth