You call me outsay — this will not do,is not enough.I’ll show you thatyou still have stuffto work throughand work on- I’ll show you.
We met in caravanseach circle arrivingcalled together by common curiosityto sit around the fire of our longings.
And now I know in these moments where I feel like I am rent apart by some out of control sea-stormthat leaves my body empty and aching that in these moments there are merely two songs being sung. The song of my body longs to let me know what I cannot see, longs for me to hear it and cries out…
No one lives above sorrow, no.To try is to try to fly six inchesabove the ground and never touch it.Oh no. You have to keep on letting goand gravity will take you home.
A vast hall. High ceilings.Oak floors.Autumn sunlightdreams throughstained glass.