I look about this gypsy caravan explosion and find solace in the chaos. The messy. The Me. I certainly have a knack for finding my kin. When do I begin dancing again? When will the canvas of color paint again the dreams and aspirations I have of effervescent beauty, of passion, of art! I'm here in some of it now and I am beginning to enjoy the mess, though still slightly frightened of it - not gon' lie. In any case, I am beginning to learn more about my beautiful, young friend. His likes and dislikes, his helpful spirit and sensitive nature. I spent some time decorating my new room; it is the first time I sit and write in this small space, loving it, as it's become cozy. I have made it mine. Humans are funny aren't they? We mark our territory in other ways besides urine... there are frequent moments when I'm bustling in between congested subway lines or stuffing food into my mouth frantically after going hungry for a whopping four hours that I realize we are just animals that can talk pretty. Yet still, there are these other moments when I feel my spirit plug into Source, and the feeling of weightlessness lifts me again to a realm where demigods were once my mother and father. I remember a plain of transcendental lovemaking and vocal cords that are birthed of the angelic realm. There is synchronicity everyday that reminds me there is more to this life than the incessant tug of our desire for instant gratification. There is beauty to be created, shared, experienced. There is room for healing. For learning. But most of all, there is a sweetness in the irony of how a child can teach an adult to take care of her life. |
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