England, England

I am made up of pieces of everything I’ve collided with over the years. Sentences phrased in ways I’d never have said, images in colors I’d never have dreamed. Words arranged on a stack of pages I sometimes shuffle and rearrange.

What rested, seemingly stuck to the top has drifted below. Names and faces and lusts for things I kept telling myself I don’t need. But did need because the lights of those fires taught me things. But in the shuffle, the exact images always get lost.

This day’s reorganization brings to the surface a line from a book: “You do it by doing it.”

And so, I get up and I do it.
Visa paperwork. New plane tickets. Emails and phone calls to confirm information. And an alarm in a base that doesn’t exist. Two lovers who don’t love, pressed together out of fright, worry, the pressing of the night.

Tomorrow, I will likely shuffle again. And see what scraps float up and what sinks down.
Life is a never-ending shift and I love being tossed in its current. Even in the eventually I get banged up on some sharp rocks and coral. The cuts and scrapes, bruises and scars are what have always made me. I hope to gather many more.

While I do, I float in rivers and bathe in fires and swim with honus, striving just to love what life I touch. I trust canto-yokai in all their forms to protect me. And when I die, to lift my spirit back into to the current of cosmic wind.

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