Like a Carousel

So here I am. It is May nineteenth in the year two thousand and five, but those numbers have lost their weight. I have been without them for a while. No longer racing, because as it turns out, I’m the only one in the race, and whatever pace I make, seems to be just about right. That pace has been constant, with little rest, but for a few hours when the world dreams of the love that we’ll make in the morning.

There is nothing but green lights streaming before me, a frenzy of neon truth, luminescent god gracing this broken little vessel with the ornaments of heaven and beyond, in wavelengths that pierce you beyond bone, and sit marinating in your heart for as long as you’ll allow it. It’s really quite wonderful. And it just keeps on coming.

And when this joyride ends, there will be stories for a lifetime of wishes, and faith that has found its place in this perseverance of truth.

It all comes around. You’ll see.