Not too much to write just now, but momentarily the swell of words beneath my fingers will swell like a tsunami of orgasmic divine bliss. Sometimes writing is like a very subtle orgasm. Not the writing so much as the final read. I have been inspired and now just need to put that inspiration into action.
As the sea is but innumerable drops beneath a swirling sky is my being so full of prayers, damnations, and blessings. For all thing that come together come apart and my mind is splitting at the seams, so it seems. Though it would appear as if nothing is amiss, yet not every shot hits. At least not it's target, but still connects exactly where I didn't know it needed too. What is this life other than that and my gratitude that it is so? What more does it need to be? Ask and I'll read you a story . Dance and I'll drum you a rhythm. Sing and be lulled like a wild beast. Speak and taste the nectar of my open heart.