Delivery Date? Who Knows For Sure!
I have been blinkered of late. My website work has engulfed me. Even now, as I take the time to write the journal note, I have strong feelings of being held away from what I should really be doing.
It is as though the post-vaccination headache has not yet cleared, that I am still in a noisy void of disassociation.
The new stove for the Old Stables is due for delivery today. Although I have not received the notification promised.
Will we return to communal gatherings in there: for poetry, for writing, for music, for art, for meditation, for celebration.
Does it make sense that I try to make sense of my life by indulging in such pushy activities. Would it be better if I spent more time going with the flow?
John Grant starts the music this morning. I don't know where I first found him, I do know that he has a fascinating back story and makes some neat sounds.
I have to go, you know what is calling, but I will leave you with an extract from a long poem, which later on does include the word 'blinkered'.
It's Early, How Are You
Other singer's songs
Are singing in my head
It's eight in the morning
I'm more alive than dead
I've woke and it's quite early
Sleep came as such a fake
I've spoke to no one lately
But smile so soon I wake
But smile so soon I wake
Other florist's flowers
Are garlands posed deep red
I wait for early warnings
In all the words I've said
I wake within the bird song
Fawn as the love of life is led
I wake in the early morning
Look back at what I have read
