Upon a morningthis slight tenseness comes upon me sent chills down my spine where is my consciousness?Upon a morning
out floating on the breeze with a child hunched down by the side of a pond is my mind the hand dips into cool water yet the tadpole eludes that is my skin in that coolness of summer my consciousness? laying on the soft pine needles on the slope of that purple mountain is my mind basking in the eerie not-warmth of the alpenglow perched on this barren rock face
halfway up the universe
and a mile away from eternity
give me this freedom
Turning awayOur hearts burned within us burned like lamplight calling and our emotions little things with wings called to the surface to dance and glory and fall once burnedTurning away
could not have understood then even had we tried what had brought us to this point where it would take us a little hand held in mine so tiny in retrospect tiny with fear and uncertainty little hands whose bewildered apprehension broke the hold of mine and I was tall to outstretch and find the wings of those flitting things they came so easy after the first one and
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