I’m still, slowly, putting the pieces back together. Who am I if I’m no longer a lawyer?
A yogi, for sure. A writer, too. An artist? I might. I’m puzzling, day by day, my life back together.
I fly away from doctors, needles, dust. Early morning, practice. People. Practitioners.
“When I return to Source, I will have lived, a beautiful life”.
A boy cut, hair. Don’t care.
Low cut, jeans. A sweater.
I soar up, fly high. A love story. Only it’s, not. A love story. It’s a joke. A travel diary. A journey. Of…
I’m looking for answers but there is none. No one. Replies. So I can be here. And there. At the same time. Rhyme. My name is Simon. And…