From metaphysical depths, creative bliss to inane inertia–crazy life.  But didn’t die yet, so I’m just swimming swimming, keep on swimming.

Clearing out that which is old and done.  Scrubbing corners that magnetize dirt and grime.  Inventory of what does and doesn’t work for me.  Letting go of old habits like moving away from a dear old friend and knowing that you won’t really keep in touch.  Time happens, life moves, change is constant.

And tears are one of the few ways I can honor these cycles.  Winter comes and I cry for summer.  Summer is here and I forget the dark nights of winter.  But in the cold season I love the colored lights throughout the city declaring hope and joy, whether in a mansion or a stable shed.

I weep for my dad and mom gone from this life, I cry for loss, I sob for the myths of what I was to be and the stories of fear whining around my future. 

Yet swimming in my tears, simple beauty of the red berried bush waving in the wind reminds me of Your Grace.  Dreams of Your deepest blessing are still pressed against my breast.  My hands hold You to my heart as I dive.