“ You are the sky. Everything else is just the weather.”
You are wisp, feet rarely touching dirt. Your gaze cannot be met. They call it lazy eye, but we know better. How could anyone expect you to hone a vision when you straddle a few different dimensions most of the time? Those who get impatient with you should try doing that pose and see how fuzzy every little thing appears. Focus is one constant in your Rolodex of epithets.
Fascinate me again, you multi-layered being. When I have you figured as a mountain of fluff, pretty yet inconsequential, I can blink real slow and you flash-forward darker, heavier. If you were embodied you’d be a person of substance, radiating a hefty beauty. I want to think I could hold you, but when I try, you move right through me. Or is it me, moving through you?
Stay low to the ground. Earth is delighted to allow you to bounce off her surfaces. You told me, once upon a time, that it is better to shower bits of yourself across the whole of life. Don’t wait until you see a form you can slip inside. When you have a little energy, toss it up into the sky and let your offerings partner with Brother Wind. It’s a hop, a skip, and a jump to eternity if you travel this way.
You made me cry. Or rather, you evoked tears in me. You were snake charmer, and man, could you wheedle and cajole that ropey trail of wetness from my eyes and heart and soul.
It wasn’t all sad. Despite what you said, life never is. I believe in tears of joy
A single day is at once ephemeral and eternal. It’s all in how you cast your view.