clues are scattered everywhere, so I a walk. muted tones, scattered pebbles, as if an artist had splashed their brush on the canvas in the sweet final moments of admiring one's work. I like to hold a rock as I walk and work my problems into it, the point being I can fling it into the Sea before I leave. it is with no little relish that I realize I doubt I'll ever see those rocks again.
Earth, Water, Air, Fire : who brings it all together? thank you, God, for letting me occupy that space, if even but for the tiniest while. aren't we always there?
