Another Mellifluous Dream of Thee

The morning passes by some necessity, one I have yet to learn or else knew and discarded without remembering why. Crows swoop low over the chickens, and a dozen juncos scour frozen leaves for whatever crumbs can be found there. Oh let me not starve who so long worshiped in the Kingdom of Hunger! Again the long walk after midnight, frosty grass sparkling in moonlight, and owls calling where the forest looks darkest. What dog would I become, what turtle, what chunk of see-through quartz and to what puzzling end? Wisdom's just another word for don't be such a fool. But the map in my head is crusty and hard to read and the one who was made to decipher it is far away and only writes from time to time. Nobody loves a cryptic know-it-all! A. reminds me of the perils of confirmation bias, and again I am forced to consider my fear of disappearing into the collective. Jesus is a long way off now, the way wood smoke eventually fades, becoming what else. When eventually I awaken the east-facing prisms have all fallen and the house is strangely quiet. Previously I have struggled and previously I have editorialized and almost always while wearing denim. It's the same old story: facing the void without explaining it, taking the next step anyway. There is a difference between stumbling and falling and the distinction actually matters. Always remember that who stands in the gap may become the gap. One more cup of coffee before I begin writing my dear, another mellifluous dream of thee.