When fire turns ashy red in your ribcage.

I held my little baby’s hand and listened to the crowds scream Bernie’s name. And we were all hope and aglow with that golden fire. That fire that does not destroy but ignites. That love that stretches boundaries and burns us all the same. Life is love and the world keeps changing. Keeps foraging through that elliptical spin we’ve got stretched out before us. Progressing, progressing. Always working towards progressing. All our voices were a fiery prayer for something worth progressing towards.

Folding, packing, emboldening, spacing out, giving away. Filing. Fumbling. The things I’m doing and the actions that make up my days. That crease me and release me through all those tiny moments of progressing that I am. Progressing towards the me that I always am.

And springtime buds, who ever did a thing to deserve such a world?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s