Sometimes I lay on my back on the scratchy red rug in my favorite place, and if I am really still, I can feel the earth moving. Moving toward…what?
At night, if I leave the shade up high, I can watch the trail of the stars. Looking for what looks back at me.
The night is so clear, and the voices I hear are like silky clarinet notes skipping across the water, tires on the distant highway like a keyboard drone. Listening for clues…
I imagine that i am running over smooth stones, pirouetting over the pine needle carpet, dancing on warm earth with its warm brown arms holding me, air so sweet it pulls me to my feet and I feel closer to the birth of forever.
I wish I could leave this daily coil, this sad toil that leads to nowhere. There are prices on the stars now.
But there is no containing the sky. And so by relation, is there no containing I?
One day I will become an elemental force, a piece of the big puzzle. I will fill a space that has been waiting for a shape like mine and then I can rise and be one with the skies and the trees, move like the leaves and pass like the moments, the beautiful moments we wish we could relive over and over.
Feeding the cycle, forever alive.
mac and muggi 