sitting in a room facing the last patters of rain. the sky is dusted in orange orche, the last marks of monsoon dusk settling quietly into place. i look at my old entries and now, they suddenly appear thick, foggy and strange. much has changed. you sense the newfound space between the best of friends. some fall away. others walked ahead. i stood by a grove of white trees as they blossom into prayer; leaves of song uncovering other pathways, marking the distance between a wounded needy world and a needed sheltered cave.
a cluster of ashen dreams dissipates, in various intermitten memories, by years & batch, on the fire by the beach. the heaps are ready to be blown by the untested freedom found in wind. high above, a bright arc of night grows more inviting by the hour, making visions arrive, divided. it felled that old forest of dreams, making fresh light pour in.
i renew the native in me. someone not seen in a lifetime. rarely spoken. someone emerges from the valley.
someone yet to see.
and all this while, i never once forget how my father called my name, always in that still, insistent voice. i have never been lost yet i was found again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------...may another year of care and meaning be found inside u, this christmas...thanks for making this year so complete for me.
