Rainy day free-write. Haven’t done this in a long time..

Sometimes I find that my mind’s eye wanders into a place and time that I don’t quite recognize. And the skies they cry for the sweet beauty that lies within the storm-clouds in her eyes.

Though this strange territory brings much trepidation, I surmise it is only a result of my timid hesitation. And as I unfold these origami words in my mind, it feels like my own kind of zen meditation.

Om.

And I can’t tell you the past because I’ve forgotten, but the future should be as clear as day. Because the future does not lie in the hands of some man named Fate, but under the complete and utter control of your intent on what to make.

Though our past has been forgotten and clouded with emotion and the notion that you are you and I am me, I tell you we are not who we seem to be. We will remember soon. Like lotus blossoms from the mud, we are all just waiting to bloom.

And as the h2o corrodes the stone of decades and decades past, I know this storm will rage and pass, and alas, the skies will be bluer than we ever could have conceived.

And believe me, because your physical reality, whether it limits or permits you, is the result of yourbeliefs.