The truth comes forth

It arrived on a cloudy day. The sky overcast and teaming with life. Dragons seemed to make their nests and burrow in the waves of fluff and air that kept us all safe and held underneath its warmth and blanket like embrace. To the average passerby, the one, me, walking along the streeet, no shadows in sight for everything seemed to meld into the gray, the air didn’t seem to hold me in the warmth I now reflect upon. Unbeknownst to me, shrouded in my own bubble of aching heart and present step, truth was on its way. I heard the crunching of leaves and the sway of dried grasses hissing along together in their airy song. The cold earth, the gravel underneath my boots and the crisp cold November evening on my fingers, turning them pink and tender. Awake to the feeling of dog leashes wrapped around my wrists and the constant tug forward, there was no time to linger, no time to hold back for I was being pulled with each step. Full of conviction and direction. I, in my own mind, remaining in the space where my feet fill my boots, moving with the hounds that guide me. I try and practice mastery, for I know it’s already within me, yet when the aching of past hurts seem to resurface like fresh ice on a once clear lake being broken straight through, all that feels relevant is my ability to breathe.

To breathe and to write and to listen and to open up to that sacred space within that all life is created from.