So here I sit. Well fed, well clothed, well sheltered. Night clings to the windows with a slippery grasp and begins to slide toward the day. I become Grandmother Time in the flesh, hemmed in by gravity, provoked by human senses, enticed by consciousness.
With closed eyes, I glance upward to the third eye and tweak my gaze ten degrees to the right of the center. A door opens, and I walk into timelessness.
And yet, the slow softening of awareness toward a creative state seems elusive. Then, volition dissolves, and the creative flow takes me.
Created January 6, 2014
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