In my sanctuary, my home, my house
The windows have no curtains
the light craves to enter every corner of the living room
a cat stretches and magic sneaks thru. Light streaks past expected limits and into several rooms beyond.
the summer solstice soon bearing the longest day, the rays of sun casting into my space the ever-reaching re-membering each and every molecule and atom that once danced as entirely different species. today me. yesterday atoms someone else. the tasting of these rays is remember, remember, remember
At night time there is Moon or No Moon. Yet, the living space opens, nudged by these beams, both lingering ancient and penetrating florescent carried from the street. when you leave your windows with no dressing, this is what happens…
no vamp, no were, no fanged visitors.
only the single presence of yourself. which can be a big guest dependent on personal knowledge.
from my vantage point the lights are not disturbing at all.
they are the ultimate spotlight, the ultimate mother, the ultimate self. both reminding me of time, spinning time, spinning awareness, spinster spinster time immortal. Not as fate toward death at all! how rude and subjective to suggest! as companion wildness, calling out! to climb on a beam of light, beam of choice, cast out the old, and ride!