hendelar

sometimes you just gotta' row

rocked

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The clock stopped keeping time a couple of days ago. It’s not really dead, since with a sort of post-coital pulsing the second-hand continues to make an effort to keep a measure of the world’s spin.

Never believed the storm had cleared, though with the large collection of x-marks roughly gouged onto the calendar, I sure wasn’t expecting another two-day battering. Hunkered and battened down, spent. Progress, measurable by the collected movement of the stuck second-hand.

I hang on to the gifted bask of sunlight that came dancing in on angel shoes, uninvited and unexpected but so welcome. Goddamn-holy-where-did-you-come-from-mother-right welcome. Three days ago. Wish I’d known then of the enormity of its sweetness. The confirmation that there was a sun in the sky was enough to foster a deep belief in magic. Later, realization; the floating wash of a pure, gentle kiss. The immensity of true. Generosity and gratitude, unaffected and without agenda. Golden.

By its nature, a storm, regardless of how permanent it seems, is temporary. Yes?

glh

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Written by glh

March 5, 2011 at 16:23

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