The ambiance is heavy with expectation, you can feel it weighing the air, the sky, the clouds. A brief burning and lots of activity in the skies, it seems all the helicopters were out to play today. Everything was very bright even when we were holding our breath waiting to see what would happen next. Still holding my breath. The stillness is definitely something. There is a strike of lighting waiting behind the curtain if only I would have the courage to pull back the curtain completely. My hesitation makes the outcome no less inevitable. The unfolding. The unveiling. The coming of summer and brighter things, and feelings which light up the night…I brought these dreams upon myself and now that I’m on the brink of fulfillment, I feel I might combust.
This morning when I woke up, at first I thought it was still Winter. Winter here is simply a roll of the dice, smoke in the eyes. Life is caving in all around. You can almost hear the glaciers falling. Is it today or is it tomorrow and does it really matter? I watch the leaves hang and drip. The world is on the verge of some new expression.
There is Summer peering in. The light is near blinding. I keep finding myself wanting to dissolve into the white ceiling and the emptiness. I am on dream-time now.
The continuity is not there.
I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate the clouds. They are making me short circuit. The arrow is arching into Cascadian falls. A fountain I drink from. A thought I am developing. A feeling I am getting lost in. He is here, somewhere. As we speak, he is here. I look for him in the small details, like the afternoon light which drenches my floor. I am not so alone. I am not so empty. It’s just that I think of milk floods and rows upon rows of washers and dryers. All pristine. All waiting like I am waiting for the time to come into bloom.
There is no place like home. The only problem: home is where the heart is. Another dilemma? If you make someone a home they can very easily leave you without a roof over your head. I’m beginning to realize so much of security is smoke and mirrors, a mutually agreed upon illusion. So I’ll place my bets on the heart and take my chances on building a shelter from that ephemeral animal impulse called Love.
Venus out my window. Burning and fizzing and sparkling. It is kaleidoscopic, at times it looks like an angel radiating in the cold desert night. Venus is losing herself amidst planes constellated. I am increasingly impulsive in the endless ebb and flow.
Everything has been overtaken by the atmosphere.