MY RANDOM THOUGHTS

I used to think my love of random knowledge acquisition was a useless endeavour that had neither value nor benefit.  I have believed that the basic insight I hold into the myriad things I know is of no consequence in who I am, who I become, and what legacy I build.  But here I am learning, a student of the universe, if you will. A jack of all trades and a master of none, as they say, but often times, better than a master of one, hence the continuous amassing of random data. And a master of none, that I truly am. But somewhere along the way, I've found places they fit.  Places that gave me a sense of accomplishment, a sense of belonging, places that held the fragments of my existence as though they were miracles. I am still learning, and even though the span of my interests is as fragmented as a toddler's,  I am blossoming.  I am but a patina, an accumulation of layered yet temporary heavens. So dear Me, shall we then bloom wherever the universe plants us next?...

She smiled, that smile that reached her eyes A subtle shift in the core of her being Simple, yet somehow the view changed The clouds, no longer grey but silver, The beginnings of change on the horizon And all around her, the air became feathery light Flowing with an emerging vigor It made for a sight to behold. She rose from her seat, smiling still As though she knew a secret no one else knew about There was a gleam of hope in her steps, as bouncy as they were Her aura twinkled as she danced in the waning showers of the rain, Inviting companions in her display of faith The tenderness that never left her, giving as she received A gift in the silent echoes af a storm It made for a sight to behold.   @Sue.Ketter

The world moves on, while she sits still in her cocoon,  That question: what have you been doing? It makes her pause. Her sense of being pushed off balance She has neither the energy nor the capacity to answer it. So let it sit as she ruminates. She's running, yes, definitely running, or is she hiding?  From the echoes of dreams she can barely recall,  From roads left untaken, almost taken  From waiting; that's the hardest one really, the waiting!  It gnaws at her bones sometimes. She's holding onto the fragility of peace, One she cannot let go of The sanctity of her mental well-being, It binds her to a false security.  As she hides her discomfort behind acceptance. She's standing in place, for the gravity of it. She's keeping within the periphery  Out of sight but present, always present She has mastered the art of patience. Time, she's giving it, biding it, collecting, waiting.    @Sue.Ketter