Morning holds the promise of everything
Stardust remembering stacked to the ceiling
By evening all the magic has leaked from my pockets
I sit and watch the moon rise
The warmth of the stone stairs all that is left
Of daytime sun dwindled and gone
For while more mornings are to come
I can still make a difference
*I have ideas and things are falling into place but so slowly. So slowly. Too slowly.
It’s a process and sometimes I’m too far ahead with pieces of me scattered behind.
I don’t know whether to wait for them to catch up or go back and pick them up.
It’s a process.
Header photo: Windscreen snap road trip down Hanging Rock way. I love the road – I’m missing travelling at the moment. I miss the momentum and movement. I miss the lack of pressure that comes from being suspended between places with no routine and no daily chores.
Out of that limbo space new versions of self are born. I’m not sure how to create anew while standing still and remaining in place.
Maybe that is why I’m supposed to learn.
How to stand still.