Something about the quiet wash of night, like a wave, or a soft splash, like water filling up an empty jar in an empty room. All that endless potential, all that indistinct possibility. Something so serene about writing when the day has washed away. Just a thought.
2 comments:
watery horses
we viewed gold sea horses
wrapping themselves in grassy bowers
tossing their heads, belying the battle
mastering some peace in their flowing reality.
This is beautiful and reminds of recurrent 3am wakings when the world is slumbering outside the window and my head is buzzing with boundless possibility. If only someone would invent a glow in the dark notebook that isn't computerised.
Lynn
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