Swimming in the sea of your own spiritual evolution sans the desideratum to ever come up for air, you will soon find that everyone and every thing you encounter plays the role of an alchemist along this path.

These strokes are not for you, dear misunderstood lover. Well… not entirely… they are for me to strip away past karmas, broken dreams, fragmented thoughts, slivers of heart-break. Memories of those who left, and those that left behind the ashes of who I became.

I am Awake. Awake to the changing seasons, the ebb and flow of unnecessary reasons.

And when you reach that center, strip the cloak of fear, and the one below that, if there’s more, then come naked. Now enter the altar of pain. Hold your hands out and rock it gently.

There was never a cage, this pen could not break, nor a distance the written word could not travel.

Dancing on dew-drops, as you wax lyrical the same morning sun.

I would call it a soft stirring, If I was convinced that is what it was.

Of what yarn shall I start weaving you into the colors of my imagination?