in the midst of the mist

flying amongst the clouds
looking at shrouds below
a refraction of light
in the midst of the mist.
one concentrated point
one. in the spans of plumes.
a scintillating touch
bring forth inner musings.

crumpled paper

i lost another day.

in honesty i don't think it can be considered a loss when i am throwing them away.

i throw days away like others crumple papers after scribbling or writing on them.

here's the thing, i am not writing or scribbling, or even doodling on these pages of days of life. i'm tossing perfectly empty pages away.

why is it that i'm not utelizing my time well? it's waisted on staring at a screen with pictures and others thought and ideas. but what about mine? what about this gift of life that i am waisting? i can't continue to throw away each day of my life. ...and yet, fear says i can.

constant motion

i feel envious of the creek behind our home. the water is in constant motion. ever moving forward. never staying idle. how would it be to move forward and never have to question where you are going or dwell on where you've been? rivers and creeks take things on for a while, a twig here, a leaf there, but it ends up depositting these things on the side shore and continues on ever pursuing its travels. its journey forward.

yes. i am envious of the movement of the water, for i feel stuck. i feel i've been idle too long. perhaps i am that desposited twig stuck in some reeds or the shore. not knowing how to continue on the journey. would it be better to be the leaf and not really moving, but allowing the flow perpetual motion to carry me adrift? carrying on without purpose.