What Day Is It?

I thank this world, its creator a mother who gave n gave with no mercy given, she loves us enough to give us all we need, water to bath and drink, boil for food and tea, plants to eat and heal and meat to hunt and animals to love, friends to gain, music that saves and memories so glorious we create history from them, this world is mother, Devine feminine taken for granted, no man could create such thing for they are void to understand truly creating something from within, the ocean is a place we truly see the mother, understand this world.

There is a loneliness to the wind, she is quiet brushing through the leaves un-wanting to disturb the flowers and birds that rest amongst them, she swirls through branches and over water, twisting with rain never landing, guiding bees, beetles and birds gathering food for their young, never finding a true home. The wind guides and flows, dances, sores fires high, yet she is alone, she observes the world reaches for touch yet as quick as she comes, she shelters away a saddening calm in her disappearance, who is the winds great loves who holds her hands, let the wind feel less lonely may the wind gain a friend.

I created something today, used my hands and imagination to craft joy for myself, allowed myself to crawl into my inner child and let blossom art.

Despite my whimsy two of my greatest inspirations for life are pessimistic, villainous tongued, chain smoking, realists, activists who believe focus of egregious power is embarrassing and the failing of humanity, they focus on the meals and conducting of culture and the sharing of stories to connect us all. Both believe in realistic approaches to life and holding your tongue very rarely, oddly they parallel each other well and almost seem one and the same, the deep desire to imagine a conversation between such intriguing minds.

Mother ocean telling me all is well and the path is gd