deepundergroundpoetry.com

Warm Spring Morning

The fog of morning is inseparable to the lingering of evening mist, eagerly awaiting me when I wake. On the road by 4:25, well before the sun, reminding me it isn't light or warmth that will make this day, but my own hands and feet to follow through. The cold air wraps around me, as though the night were my most ancient lover, laying its protective blanket, finding and remembering the sensations and movements of its most dedicated pilgrim. Everything smells stronger at night and so the first sharp inhalation is a drink of awareness to me. I realize how awake I am, waking glad to be me, Noah and Loki, unique parts greater than the sum of the whole. The world waits to play and there will be words to dance across a page by the time it turns dark again. Everything comes full circle, so this is another day full of murals to give back to the night before I sleep. Dewdrops glisten, ether winking at me, and I wink back in kind as though to tell the dark and infinite ether “See you soon.”

Symbolic names, real gains, feeling change, we play so many roles throughout the waking period. When I sleep part of me wants to never wake up. When I am awake I want to never stop moving, creating, thinking, doing. During the conscious time a slice of me feels as though it remains held back, dwelling in the dreaming place. As a child I vowed to never fully let go of innocence, of belief, of brooding over mysteries, ruminating upon the fascinating discoveries of every new day and friend. There was magic in the world and it didn't matter whether the child believed or not…   magic reached out first. Now I scan for that magic in every set of eyes I meet, whether human or animal, mental maps projecting, overlapping, finding common ground. Where that familiar land is found we test each other’s maps, light-footed but unafraid. Can we stand together upon this shared platform? Is there room to dance and create? Banter and improvised comedy is simple enough, emerges naturally. Watch the hidden world twirl. Be curious about the absurd, follow your curiosity, paint pictures with it, letting reality blur, watch the dots connect themselves. Ideas reach out to each other, intertwined vines forming a biological net, a greater whole than the sum of its parts. If the whole is dutiful to freeing our roles, if the roll is beautiful when spinning out of our control, then change is felt. Every day could be our first or last. I always seek to bring newness and laughs because like dewdrops every Spring comes to pass.
Written by LokiOfLiterati
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