I now write because my soul thirsts! Beyond the shadows, I observe and wonder. I have become a watcher. Watching.
Shades of blue
Sapphire, Azure Ultramarine, lovely hues. Blue shades. Alluring.
I am infinite. My soul reaching beyond stars, blue sky. Ascending!
prisms of blue lights, of positive reflections, newness awakens!
The Portrait and the Portal
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. Wait! Didn't the ad say A-frame, this looks more like T-frame, flat roofed frame, or whatever framed term is correct. We could barely see anything anyway, except the white blanket of snow covering everything. At this moment however, any old kind of frame will do. Our only wish was that it had a great deal of warmth, was cozy, inviting and perfectly safe inside.
A-framed winter wonderland
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. The world surrounding us was bathed in white bluish tinted magnificence, as if being viewed through a heavenly prismatic yet opaque lens, beauty and wonder were reaching out to touch and warm the cold hearts of anyone willing to revel in nature's beguiling painted white canvas. The air was crisp and clean, as if a pure entrancing white blanket had somehow shrouded and masked the real world for just a few fantastical moments, allowing peace and joy to flow through our hearts, while enticingly beckoning us towards fun and frolic and joy of the holiday season.
My dream guardian!
Thud! Bang, bang, bang. Gunshots? "Awake"! PAUSE! The non-fiction part of this story is that I have never had the need for an alarm clock. I kid you not. I just let my brain know what time I need to wake up, and I am up. Usually. If I oversleep, someone, a voice, my guardian angel or my genie from the lamp, will yell at me to wake up. It has happened my entire life. It is said that we all are given a guardian when we are born, angel if you wish, or a sprite, spirit, ninja, call it what you will. They say that if you listen close enough, open your mind's third eye enough, you will hear or maybe even see it. I think mine is my grandmother, dressed like a ninja. She died before I was born, but she was stubborn and willful enough to be still here, I understand.