Shifting...

the river of time always changing, never the same, I fail to replicate what was experienced yesterday. Each moment a unique manifestation of consciousness, we are cruising over a stream of continuous creativity -forgive the redundancy. There are doing days and thinking days. There are pushy-right-in-your-face days and soaringly elusive, nuance-filled days. There are happy days and sad days, and thus we could go down or up the dichotomies' list, moving over a sinuous intensity curve, along a winding track of uniqueness that knows neither beginning nor end. Meanwhile, the crow caws, 'There is magic in the air, can't you see?' And another goes, 'There is magic in the air, won't you see?' And a third adds, 'I think them blind. I think them lost. Let us caw some more. Maybe they'll hear us. Maybe, they'll realize that there's magic in the air.' And so the crows go on cawing for whomever wishes to awaken. The choice is ours. Or so claims the mad fool dwelling within.
Be well.
Listening to crows, guided by hawks, basically going bonkers and loving it.