Tired of Fear

Like standing on the edge of forever, taking that deep breath before the plunge, I can see the worlds end, I can see the galaxies unfurling, feel them in my blood, the slow shift of dark matter, holding us together, tearing us apart. Every ounce of my being vibrating with potential, with lessons learned, absorbed, drawn in like a cloak around me.

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A Month of Slow Dreams

 

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Summer brings with it the weight of memory, no other season carries burdens such as these. A tumult of too long days and nights too hot for rest. This county is haunted by summer, in every dizzy drive through the blazing canyons, in the drowned bodies in the flooded rivers, athirst by autumn. In the siren song of fire trucks and patrol cars, and the dry dance of star thistle and burr.

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