Twilight, the wee hours, the dark of the moon, liminal spaces, places where magic dwells, crossroads, crises, cusps. There is static on the radio. A song my voice was singing, rhythm of sound takes flight to surround me, a comforter of down to ease my soul. I’ve been trying to define a taste, a sense of bittersweet and salt. I’ve been trying to find a trace a footprint in the desert, a sight, a scent, a memory. I’ve been trying to discern a trace of me, a piece to fit the puzzle, my contribution to the grand design. Seeking in shadows, the space between myth and matter, those places words cannot define. On those insubstantial plains of myst and awe, the stuff of dreams, threshold of wonder, creation is spawned.
Beautiful 🖤