Wishing Well
I have not felt the morning air before the light hits dawn. The magic is full of ideas waiting to set loose. Possibilities shift into doubt and the heart does not move. Eyes look down upon something new. Richness of moments alight to the ordered flowers never seeding with the breeze.
So I leave dreams and wishes for another day. I routine to the well, hoping that the thirst for change stays. Passion forges through winds that chirp at the door to come play. The battle is not the curse, but rather a repetition willing all that is known to explore.
Go and wake these visions which lines wish to define. Trust in those impulses that taps the knee to behold. Courage is in these inches we win with the minutes we do not explain. Candles flutter with hope crossing bridges. Facing the days as an open invitation to become remarkably you.
