waiting, waiting, waiting for some sorry soul to come looking, so she can go knocking at a home that been emptied in search of some place warm and dry, another eye roll from our dear friend…

The candlelight flickers and I’m alone again, in the center, a new beginning among the ordinary…

I don’t know what I’m searching for but each time I find it I’m filled with a knowing that is older than the stolen fruit…

The experience of the infinite knows no difference, no pain or pleasure…

Ghosts in the making, but no home left for haunting…

Nothing more to give to noticing…

Sometimes healing takes place in a fractured state…

Now to carry on and carry through…

I have grown despite you blocking the sun…

So I am using my peripheral, my sight is clearest at it’s edge…

Though the timing may change, the song is always the same. Hymnals of blood and grief…

Heaven-bound creatures of Earth and blood…

Each moment, an opportunity for rememberance.