Larry doesn’t know about the forest where he’ll go. It certainly is a pity that he only knows the city. Maybe you can help him decide where he should stay. In the city of his youth or in a land [not too] far away.
It is there. A faint shimmer, overpowered by the dark cloud looming ominously overhead. Look hard and you will see it. The light that exudes promise, as the dark cloud fades to wisps of gray.
Fine butterfly wings,
Brush lightly upon my skin,
And my soul takes flight.
Stagnant and idle; The road beckons; Move along to places unexplored. Where shall we go? It doesn’t matter. Straining to get a better look in the distance; Long and sprawling. A magnetic attraction; pulling and enticing. What might we encounter? It doesn’t matter. A new adventure; Manifests itself in each bump of the road.
She doesn’t need to be beautiful to attract your attention, but of course she is. Her smile lights up her eyes when she sees you. She listens attentively to what you have to say, without judgment or unsolicited advice. When she speaks of others, it is without gossip, but simply information from which you may form your own opinions. She is by no means perfect. In fact, her most endearing quality is the ability to laugh at herself, on the rare occasion she falters. I would introduce you to her, but I’m quite sure you already know who she is.
I couldn’t sleep at all last night. A racing mind. A pounding heart. Not understanding why. Then it registered in neon hues; It’s because I watched the news. I couldn’t go outside today. The scary sounds. The people too. Such dangers are out there. Protected barriers you would choose; If you only watched the news. I wouldn’t let my neighbor in. Potential thief? A terrorist? He doesn't look like me. I’m aware of all that I could lose; Because I watch the news. I hoarded all the town’s supplies. No food. No gas. How would I survive? Now don’t you even dare accuse; As you should have watched the news.
I thought that my fall flower bloomed; but it’s way too early; much too soon. As on the stalk perched so absurd, sits not a flower, but a golden bird.
I find myself in a raging river. A strong current, pulling me toward places unknown. I fight against its ferocity, but it smashes me into rocks. I escape toward the safety of shore, but it pulls me under; sweeping me back into its grip. I grow tired and give myself over, floating on my back as it leads me in the only direction it knows. The river calms and I lay there on the surface, wondering what lies in the depths below.
Plant a seed.
Allow it to grow.
Soak in its wisdom.
Share its knowledge.
Invest in its future.
Observe its abundance.
Navigate its possibilities.
A Blank Page
An empty page stands before me. A blank canvas; patiently awaiting words of wisdom. I have no wisdom to impart, so I wait. I go about my daily routine, observing what is laid before me. Nothing remarkable happens, but I return to my blank page and the words come. Where do they come from? I know not; a place of mystery deep within.