friend
it's november already...i don't know what i think about that. i want to be in it all, present for now, but this and that clogs my head. i don't know how fortunate i am and all the while how blinded the fortunate makes me. right now, i sit, thinking of what to do with time- i want to speak to you.
i just think your presence is so obviously absent that writing down things makes you feel closer..
you are a dear friend and your absence of being near is felt, especially tonight.
i don't know what it is-my layered consciousness needing to communicate with you? or that certain warm energy you bring with just being near.
i hope you are doing well, and by well i mean healthy- in your body, you.
that you are inspired, and loving, and able.
i know for myself, i am like some hole to be filled, and the openess and negative space are willing and there. so much is coming in-forcefully and with acceptance-but i get tired and sometimes want to be just a hole, dug out and with open space. it's all dirt, yeah?
i'm thankful and tired too.
that damn intricate involvement of life, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot,
a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot,
a lot, a lot.
there exists simplicity- some ideal- can come to mean something. i forget simple-often.
our lives, they really can be significantly enlarged to become small again- when placed under and in and on earth. good grief it's beauty. i know it, but have to be reminded by the actual sight of it, or through second-hand representation.
i miss you, and i miss your beauty and what we can see and shape out of a reality.
i just think your presence is so obviously absent that writing down things makes you feel closer..
you are a dear friend and your absence of being near is felt, especially tonight.
i don't know what it is-my layered consciousness needing to communicate with you? or that certain warm energy you bring with just being near.
i hope you are doing well, and by well i mean healthy- in your body, you.
that you are inspired, and loving, and able.
i know for myself, i am like some hole to be filled, and the openess and negative space are willing and there. so much is coming in-forcefully and with acceptance-but i get tired and sometimes want to be just a hole, dug out and with open space. it's all dirt, yeah?
i'm thankful and tired too.
that damn intricate involvement of life, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot,
a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot, a lot,
a lot, a lot.
there exists simplicity- some ideal- can come to mean something. i forget simple-often.
our lives, they really can be significantly enlarged to become small again- when placed under and in and on earth. good grief it's beauty. i know it, but have to be reminded by the actual sight of it, or through second-hand representation.
i miss you, and i miss your beauty and what we can see and shape out of a reality.