I have always gone to the living world with my loneliness, my failures, my heart aches. She is a friend that is unafraid of my very ugliness.
This time is no different. But now it is nature herself that I mourn, needing...
If I could pocket this mountain for good, I would. My heart lifts every time I see her, ripped white skirts, unkempt hems peeking beneath velvet cloudscapes. It was this land that called me to her seventeen years ago and I have loved every moment...
It is finally time.
The afternoon weather considerate,
warm enough for lace wings and a life outdoors.
When they feel the liberation of open air,
a rush of adrenaline sweeps through,
an invisible lattice of electricity.
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rhythms and cycles