The Possibility of Alchemy

It's the pressure, the resistance, that pushes us to grow and flower, stay fresh and full of joy and desire. There is always love, it is the deepest power, where vulnerability finds shelter in a shower of passing rain under the Oxo Tower where a woman makes hats of feathered colour, inspiring imagination to grow, perhaps I'll make my own?

If the destination I seek cannot be held in my hands, will my mind grow weak in the execution of plans? For the lines that form burrow deeper into sand, but mine is the castle built on solid ground. A home for my body, a haven for my heart, freedom for the raven out of deepest dark, flying forth from the edge of a tree covered cliff with the larks and the gulls on a sea wind lift.

It appears to be a world full of people who claim to know how it goes, what to do and I don't. Its true that when I peel back my eyes from the relentless glow of pictures passing through the eternal show, I wonder will there come a day when the fool is praised? When we admit to each other that we all might have been phased and we put down our tools and we look up to the sun and breathe a collective moment where not one person needs to run and we allow back the inspiration intended for our birth and we resist the distraction and go back to the earth where the ever growing seed draws nutrients from the mulch and dead leaves.

If feeling is believing then I feel that it's true. Now I'll take inspiration from the old and conjure up the new.