Cold winter mornings. In the darkness touch is different, trails appear that only our fingers can follow. Many days of snow and rain pass and the moon appears, a slivered hook dragging the heavens. Subtlety helps, sure, but not only subtlety.
Devin argues that you can't imagine the size of the cosmos - that "size" isn't even really a relevant term in this context - and he's not wrong but also, who knows. Frozen hoses. I think often of the ones who figured out that stars were reliable guides. Suddenly all this Tarot.
A juncture at which asking how and why becomes viable in sustainable non-dramatic ways. The Rons of my childhood ascend in importance or rather, my recognition of their importance stops hiding itself. Hurrying so the coffee won't grow cold. If you have to ask, then yes - you are complicit.
The heaters crackle and murmur all night, the house creaking in sudden cold. Is this where it ends? The mirror suggests at least two realities but is silent with respect to choosing between them. It never hurts to read William James again. Checking on the horses just because.
Pictures of the place from when we bought it. Those who dance on planes established by luminous chakras. Even the lie is a witness unto Truth. I was never more lost than now, each step a measure of the joy I feel in Her care.
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