snowquestration blues

Snow is falling, work’s not calling, the wind is swaying branches, I begin to playing ranches, castles, and urban centers for their value in the precipitation. Evidently the universe is magnificent. “I may lie to my heart, but my heart never lies to me” says Ben in speaking of friends. How is it when things that don’t have a clear beginning ever come to an end. Introspection in those benevolent directions, which get spoken of at picnics and funerals, within groups of three or four. Possibly two. When I dream, I forget it has happened and it impacts me not. The images are not burned into memory, or framed by scaffolding for passers by. I have ideas of what those dreams might contain, but no evidence to support my theories. This stage will confine ideas only downwardly. We can all use more upward movement in our lives. Just think, if there are infinite possibilities, possibilities, there are infinite outcomes. Take shelter. Breath easy. Sled. Repeat.


Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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