yikes

On the phone this evening I listened to my grandmother attentively, fully, near something I’d never done before. Trial, error of the fleeting and filialless mind. She is well and as I have always known her. Sweet, strange, so sweet and far off. Complex, too, in ways I don’t understand yet.

Days churn quickly now, pace in the dark hours of life. My dear friend and I speak of a turn, and hill-top our lives, our summiting. Ever since I was young, the word summit felt like a space held in a valley, not like cresting or peaking. There was still movement to be had upward. And that, I suppose, is still true.

She has found herself some love, a new job, a new home all in some year, as I am establishing the groundwork for what my life may look like, witnessing womanhood in its fully power and submission. We both enter the calendar year that holds our goldens, and our moon year opens on a selfish day of mine. It is unspeakable and wonderful.

Tired, that is how I have felt most. Winter is begging.

My dreamworld wakes me overflowing and unable to spill. It is strange how the mind always does know. Saturday night, rupturing Sunday in whole, I dreamt of a spirit baby and a city so tall. Shapes and colors like the ocean, much too beautiful for modern man, and warm warm morning sun. The clock spun and at some point I wandered my way to the top of a building. I dreamt of a fight, or a combustion between two who I walked into among work this morning. They too are people who see the world as it is. Crazy together, perhaps. Can I really escape and let my being wander as a medium for something beyond? My mind does not like to play too subtle.

I can fully come into myself, and will, for the matter. The time ahead is abundant, look at all the shifting thus far.