The ethereal in life
In another profile, I say that I am trying to balance the mundane and the ethereal in my life. Most of the time it simply isn't true. I tend to be very good at living in the now, being grounded in the observable world. I'd even say to the point of being seriously predicable and staid. Practical and efficient oh yes. But every so often some thing changes, sometimes it's just the erratic wobble of the balance of my mind threatening to spin out of control. But that's a familiar madness.
More rarely and more thrilling is when a certain person brushes my life again and suddenly magic is real again. Suddenly I throb with the urge, the need to throw my mind against the skies and see what I find. To wind my thoughts like a slender glistening chain spinning and see how far I can throw them singing through the fog and dark and mist... Did you hear me call? Breathing is a pray, movement a religion. How could I forget to exist in this part of myself for so long. Grounded in the earth to call to the wind and feel it wrap around me most tenderly. The dull grey shore in winter, glowing clouds in an endless summer sky, the smell of frost and crisp leaves...
He's called me a silver spider and on days like this it is me more than any other name.
More rarely and more thrilling is when a certain person brushes my life again and suddenly magic is real again. Suddenly I throb with the urge, the need to throw my mind against the skies and see what I find. To wind my thoughts like a slender glistening chain spinning and see how far I can throw them singing through the fog and dark and mist... Did you hear me call? Breathing is a pray, movement a religion. How could I forget to exist in this part of myself for so long. Grounded in the earth to call to the wind and feel it wrap around me most tenderly. The dull grey shore in winter, glowing clouds in an endless summer sky, the smell of frost and crisp leaves...
He's called me a silver spider and on days like this it is me more than any other name.