rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


My mind wanders and fails to tell my inattentive self where it has been. Maybe it is gathering revelations while I watch the ordinary world. Maybe someday it will reveal to me thoughts in the calls of birds and words on the wind. Or maybe it only dreams, while I remain here among the leaves and grass and flowers and their dust. I like to think that it has found secrets for which I am unready, but there is no certainty in that. It could be that it is merely absent, and someday will wander and not return while I fade like evening light. Should star emerge I'd like to be ready, but otherwise the lack of any surprise will not surprise me. The world is a strange place, but no stranger than myself, two places at once, each unknown in its own way.

Sunday VerseCollapse )

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