Midautumn night’s thinking

From last night. With the air conditioner on no less.

Flow

Honor is given where it is due.
There is too much said here, and eyes blinded by sand.
Hearts that have mattered for so long remain in the haven of a toned down light where the outlines are blurred and vision may go on being selective forever.
I feel cheeky.
Hush now, you know that what is for the best matters most, and sometimes really there is simply Too Much Information to be had.
Where things are done by an artisan soul, there has been built an estimable life.
The desert sands are tossed to lash against me so my eyes burn and blur, my mouth is dry and my voice choked, my skin made raw as though in punishment for daring to declare a destination, a destiny.
I pray to heavenly bodies to remind me of the tasks in my irreverent Sunday.
Turning now away from this exercise in wirebound lined futility, I will study the past that lives in Someone of whom I need to know so much more.
Dear world and God and any angels who might be listening, thank you for what time and places we may find.
One human span; how wonderful and how full of awe a thing it is.
How long do you give each soul?
I drift toward wondering whether I will be made better use of in the time after this.
What is she saying, please?
Too many words ramble on in a tangent to nowhere.
Whisper the truth, and I’ll hold it safe.
Take care; yes, as always, take care.