Place of knowing

There is no grace for the ill-equipped. The constancy of coming to speed, rolling off the hill by just that little, the mad scramble of the spirit that refuses to die. There is no stillness in this motion. Wouldn't be bearable - the fumble, the sensation, all spikes and bounce - if it weren't so funny, in it's unnecessariness. The beauty of balance hides in nooks and crannies, waiting to be discovered. Failure isn't an option. Failure is a friend. I embrace you. Let's run together. 

Scatter

 

I came across an odd, sprawling smile that stayed with me. The memory of it keeps playing back in my mind like a flash clip when least expected. I would like to imagine that if I curled up under a grand tree, I would wake with answers that eluded me. It would have to be a gnarled tree, lichen covered, centipedes crawling to a symphony of crickets. The portal comes home. A hundred year wall I touch. Peel upon peel I discover notions that correct themselves. Every wave of water cleans the rocks a little. Silicates. Shine in the dark even when no one's looking.