Sometimes, times like now, I sit at the beach in my car. I listening to the waves, Phillip phillips, or both. Equally as relaxing and beautiful they both continue to be.
I could stop time if i wanted, but there has never been nor will there ever be a perfect moment for it to stop.
Start by leaving home. It’s not where the heart is,
but where the hard edge is. When ice begins
to ebb from shoreline,
freeing mangy marsh grass,
leave.
And as you pick up speed, let your life arc out
away from you.
Realize that you don’t know where you’re going
and that the weather changes often.
Steer between the stars
like songbirds coming back at night.
Listen to the whirring
of a thousand, thousand miles of dark.
Remember you are ancient,
that once you walked out of the sea
and in the trees became another thing.
Know you can again.
Become three kinds of lonely.
Light a torch.
Leave a trail of handprints on the walls.
Or start by staying put.
Be a whisper looking for a mouth: luna, luna, luna.
Sit underneath the porch light.
Eat walnuts and persimmons.
Spread your red-edged wings.
‘Calling time’ begins near midnight.
Be hungry. Want.
Women are locks. Men open them for doors.
“How To Fall In Love” by Susan Elbe (via atomiclanterns)
