Words tumble, people no longer believe. The task is to tell past time what the stilts were, which held us suspended, or sustained. We went blind, several times as I see it, but what we wanted was for those words to come true, and cause our bones to come home.

Unsure still, we desired to continue, and this beckoning continued. Somewhere even beyond sound, we flared up like hope in a flask, we wanted again to be the melody.

Upshore, we sing, because we see. Upstairs, we call forth because we know. When I was young I looked up and beyond. As I joined my older self in looking, i am thankful for what was, and what is to come. Don’t wait to hope. It is true what you heard in the night. Don’t wait to latch on to your dream. This whisper is neverending. Believe.

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!