I went walking before the world woke up today.
It was my weather.
Chill
Mist
Hidden.
I was able to obscure myself in the moist shadows,
before anyone could see - before I could see -
the ghosts that haunt my mind, my fiber.
The dreams that burn off with dawn.
The crows were out;
the scavengers of harvest.
And I; a scavenger of hope.
I wish there were somewhere to lay all I carry.
Someone to tell all that has happened.
I am but a grit of sand
In a saturated desert.
Memories aren't menus
You don't always get to choose your favorite meal
Just do the best you can with what you have.
Namaste
Circumstance does not make the man...it reveals him to himself - James Allen 1902
