Sleep interrupted, however blessed the interruption, and scaped by long dreams cannot be defined as restful
Yet even with that, this morning, I feel extra rested in the song of the birds, sporadic and gentle.
What of this new day? Where shall I go with my thoughts and where might my Heart journey in the swath of sunlight I travel beneath?
Who will I meet and how will we feel upon meeting and then again, or still, in relieving eachother of our encounter?
How tender and open am I to the hearts of those I already have come to love? And to those I am just meeting.
What might I bring to add to the beauty of this day?
I feel like a child on the shore of the raging sea.
My one shell tossed or grain of sand moved, means nothing to the Patterns she will carve into the beach when she lands.
The gifts we share come in waves and we can never truly know their impact.
I will only know my own impact in the return voice of those who chose to tell me in their language.
Whether i learn, is my own work and how I go about that changes in every dynamic.
Usually I bring too many words. Some love me anyway.
Palace of Muse 