seasons greetings

Something must surface. We can only hold our breath for so long.

Skimming the bottom and looking upwards. The light is split into each corrugation. Each movement refracted and rippled. I am transfixed by the changes in form.

I come back to that place of gentle chaos. Sit straight backed in the eye of the storm. And the howling, it is a lullaby. I cradle the rocking breeze.

As surely as the wind will blow dust from my eyes. As surely as the fire germinates the seed. As surely as the flood clears the debris, as the earth turns death to life again.

This too shall pass.