I hope you all feel well and okay. Count ten breaths and see my words take form.
I am at work. It is around midday and the sun, well the sun is being the sun.
Everyone is there.
The usual birds are around too. I think they like my aura.
But today I am sitting in the open, but in a corner away from the eyes of the people.
But the birds can see me.
The trees can feel me and the worms understand it.
I am adoring the darkness that makes me part of who I am.
It looks like a pit but it is warm within.
It looks bad and dark but it has stars on it.
And the Old man who watches us work starts bellowing, bull style!
I never judge him.
He cannot manage imagination.
He cannot see through doors and laces of time.
My body smiles and goes back to work. A shell bending and working.
I wasn’t there.
I was still at the sight of the birds.
And together we were wondering,
How the sun was shining and it was dark.
Then one bird coughs a song.
It doesn’t sing, it coughs.
Too loud to be false it sings,
“Paper burn. Paper ash.”