Weaving Gold

Mokosha, Anastasia Sophia, and Me, Natalia . . . while the books are written

Staying Alive

IMG_1411I am somewhere; I’m not sure where. It doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing matters, and everything matters. This I’ve learned: there are two sides to every coin. What I want to know is, what’s in the middle? What’s between/inside the head and the tail?

I am somewhere; I’m not sure where. I see a pink sky and yellow trees. The path before me is purple. There is a hum-buzz in the air. I am immersed in a magical place, in a splendiferous time. I stand rooted, immobilized, magnified and compressified. I am taking in oxygen, but I can barely breathe. Nothing matters. Everything matters.

Shall I send down roots, plant myself here, now, stay forever, fornever? Shall I soar into the pinkness, munch the yellowness, and/or charge onto the lavender lane? Shall I breathe, once more, or shall I cease? Shall I listen, or bury my head in the sand? Am I to live in this Some I-don’t-know Where, or can I figure out how to creep, intrude, insinuate-infuse myself into the mysterious center?

Writing Prompt
“I am somewhere; I’m not sure where, it doesn’t seem to matter.”

I’m the one?

Having fun with Menna van Praag‘s Sentence Game. Today’s sentence: 

“Mrs Whitaker found the Holy Grail; it was under a fur coat in her closet.” Smoke & Mirrors, Neil Gaiman

Mrs. Witaker found the Holy Grail; it was under a fur coat in her closet. She had not known she was looking for it, had never thought about the cup of myth and legend, had not known she needed it. But, oh! She recognized it immediately, knew exactly what it was, and remembered, in an intense, dramatic whoosh, why she needed it. It was personal and global. Planet Earth needed the Holy Grail at this moment. And she was the one who was worthy and capable to wield it.

Her body trembled, resonated to a note struck somewhere in the cosmos. She felt herself coming alive, growing, glowing.Now is the time. Recall your powers. Embody your essence.

She felt the words. Ha! — Mrs. Whitaker leaped and grinned. She had long sensed that she was much more than a librarian. She had the skills to tap into and harvest the wisdom of the ages.

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