the birds and cats tend to mock me because they, each in a different way, paw or claw at the thought that I want to be them. my thought of flight is just a dissembled metaphor the bird mistakes for a lust for wings. in the deepest hour of sleep when dreams are reality and reality is a shadow on a cave wall cast by candle light I do fly. Beguiling every nest and roost with plucked wings that don’t flap but in artfully dangle. Relinquishing my purchase of soil and stone I battled my Mister my husband air to get under my sowed and reaped feathers to carry me up to the mountain top high.
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Published by danmhenryU
I am just a person doing the next most right thing in front of me. I am a part of an international Christian community that is interreligious and ecumenical. I work with managing our communities social media, assist in community development and leverage opportunities for personal enrichment for members of the community. This blog is an opportunity to experience what otherwise might be inexplicable. . View all posts by danmhenryU