So often sane, I shower myself with song threads, never pretending some fullness of spirit isn’t liberating. And images, those keenly pregnant passages do fly!~
No one ever told him he had better keep quiet. They just said nothing themselves. They guided by muted example. Boring? um… yeah.
The real question was never much of a question. What to do when they come for you…or when no one comes for you?
Easy. Sing, sing a song.
At once she was safe.
No here and now, only past tense and future promise, so she could not really change horses, so to speak. She needed to tread that blue aqua for an eternal Light minute. No thoughts, only breaths, with limitless energy as she took flight, directly rising from the ashes and simultaneously arriving in the…
There once was a wild horse. Tossed upon the wind and reigning his own self in…before there was a whisperer.