Today is another day… I am neither the northern nor most southern pole.  Not in heaven.  Not in hell.  On this earthy fleshy terrain I live.  I survive and observe storms all around me.  Sharp calm in shards….

I sat on a swing the other day.  Obliged my shadow slanting hello.  Feet twisted little craters in the ground… Wood chips unearthed by apocalyptic feet….. And remembered how much time I spent thinking as a child, on swings.  How many times the lulling lead me to conclusions…. And how much time adults spend in avoidance of doing things, like thinking on a swing.

I’d give up everything to make things OK.  To right somehow, the laughable chaos that surrounds me. But how presumptuous it is for me to relegate anyone’s ANYTHING as “chaotic”. And still my sense is that I walk; I take silent steps through hurricanes and storms.  The wind whips me wildly– as wildly as it whips you.  Though, I am not broken and soaked.  I’ve been on the ground for sure, a simpering mess with a struggle in my chest to breath…

But purely oxygenated and perfused I remain (sustained)….

….And when your own breath fights, wracks against your ribs to leave, a holy light in breath descends and enters….. sustains.  And in your bones you are stronger, with no strength of your own.

13 Annan Water

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