Maybe It's the Rain

2024.11.23

Good morning, that wonderful way.

Life and what to do with it.

Listen to the rain and think about breakfast.

How are you?

Better if you could respond.

You can!

So, 'if' turned to 'when' and you're better now.

Rain muddled thoughts; sentences flow slow.
Drip drop drab dab of gab.

Maybe it's the rain.

Always an available scapegoat.

Thank you rain, thank you.

The rain wants gray; the sky says blue.
Clouds... those opinionated casters of shadows.

Choppy sentences, choppy thoughts, this morning.

How's life with you?
Over the lack of response, yet?

Me, too.

The words are the important thing. They always comeback. They have no choice. It's what words are for to make spaces, places to see your dream of the world.

My dream sees you sharing words with me. Cast out the words and let it be.

I enjoy solitude, seasoned in it from what life asked me to overcome. Some fights have to be won alone. Some fights the only threat is loneliness.

I have my imagination and words to share for company. I do well with both, thank you very much.

Sit vigil on the dream of yourself. Build a fortress around it. Send signals to what's good in the world. There's no sense welcoming attention from what dirties your dreams. Unless it's to gather all the scum in one place so they're easy to clean up.

Internet IPs and Justice have long traceable memories.

Enough time on that, though.

Thanksgiving on the way. Happy Turkey Genocide Day!

Personal thoughts, place in the world thoughts, today best shared alone. A few things to take care of.

Take care, look after yourself, and have your better day.