Transitions

I have been left upside down by the premise of this blog. As a writer, one who lives and plays with words, I have begun to question myself- and wring my desperate hands. I wish to have an intimate connection on this page, to take its whiteness and wipe away the dust.

This morning, there is slowness in my transitions to the day. There is business to tend to: a new photo studio being birthed, my website ready to be unveiled, love that must be nurtured, some darkness to contain.

I have been told that the seer cannot see herself. I knew a gifted psychic once who dazzled me with her visions but suffered in her own mirror. She was never quite able to see her own light blue eyes which often turned black with memory.

I long to look into the future, to love in gentler air, to come into the loftier side of life. The end of summer brings little ease. There is a fervor in my heart that hints of fire and pale wings. Please tell me what that means. Until you do, I will take each petal, one by one, and toss them

with care into the anxious wind.