Not sure what’s out there really. But here I am on the platform waiting for the train to arrive. I’m watching the last of small winged heels fade into shafts of light, cumulus and true blue of the sky; a sling flailing along behind packed with deliveries.
I’ll wait and look that way. Although, no conclusions there, no final facts. I have developed a good appetite for waiting. It’s ok that the mysteries keep coming with yet more mysteries. I am one for reflection…
Yes, I Will Look That Way …I Hear The Lonesome Whistle Blow ..Far Far Away…
My friend will be returning, I know. Some companions refuse heaven alone. I await with all that I have gathered and have woven into a life… yes, a salvage, perhaps it’s true, but beautiful threads of golden fleece I realized were sorely needed for the crafting.
And all is not undone but unfinished. All is not lost though some unfulfilled, and that may be that.
A young man reminded the populace to “Always Think Twice”... Sleepwalking does not require this. One is then at a loss for accountability, for response-ability, and may wear an unchosen collar.
Welcome back the messenger and take note of thoughts in the mind remembering mind is the great and first shape shifter. How generative the mind is in its capacity to imagine and regenerate again and again from itself.
Long before a thing is true on the outside the powerful cause of its collective vision is precipitating manifestation. If a final message does come, perhaps it is only: “Not Going According To Plan”. Then even Grace denies the long way around and insists upon a change of mind.
Thought is also form. We dismiss thought because it casts no immediate shadow — yet worlds are quietly arranged beneath its weather. We imagine thought unseen, yet eventually the world returns it to us in visible form arriving with weight and as the mirror of later.
Were it not that thought itself is quicksilver, we might believe we had captured it. But only attention ever holds it — and only briefly.
On winged foot, my friend returns again in mercurial fashion delighting my astonished gratitude. Not every mystery asks to become a dwelling place. Some merely ask to be consulted.
As The Whistle Blows My Friend And I Are One With The Other And The Fetch Of Threads For Our Weave Until The Next Stop Further On Down The Line.