6 minutes to go and counting...

Where'd that feeling go? Where's that irremediable joyous glow that shined a warmth from your belly outside? Just recently we feel half off, don't we? Sometimes we can be reconstituted by the borrowed beauty of music passing us by, but where went its source out of our frame of vision?

The old tricks still apply. Several times a day, like a habit-trodden path is wrought, I find myself visiting spots that up-heave the soul like a sand bar launches its waves several feet into the air. I exist now and then, like this, and in between feel barely necessary. It's not a sorrowful space to inhabit--more like the push of darkness, against you and on all sides. In some ways soporific. And in an offhanded vague sort of way, sometimes worrisome. I'm calling it a phase, if you're asking.

In the mean time, revel in the words already spoken even before your lips shape the sounds. Take a measure of solace in the euphoria you still inspire in the dog that waits for you by the raised platform of your front door. And stick it out, one step at a time, to avoid whatever potential damage might potentially be avoided.

Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (4/5/09)