So restless,

I struggle from within to feel settled.

I don’t know what next to do or how to do what.

I realize that sleep is more effective and comforting.

The dreams keep coming. White linen unfinished.

I don’t even know if that is something to cherish or relish.

Why would I prefer sleep if I am alive?

The dreams keep coming. Peach and lace.

When I am awake I am restless and bored. My mind rumbles and gurgles with ideas that I cannot express in language.

Endless thoughts move through the terrains of my mind and I am happy, yet I can’t tell anyone about them as I can’t find language for them.

The dreams bring fog. But I can’t sing!!

What is this breach of communication that assails me?

Inside the house is good for me though I know I should be out and about sometimes, yet, it is just as boring unless I have a specific place in mind.

Nothing is shocking anymore. I am beginning to understand the language of souls without a human teacher.

It’s the heart that teaches and the dross rolls away and spaces clear for fresh breezes to bring new news to the soul.

My soul and the world is one, but for now I am set apart from the universe itself so that I can act on this life stage with other set-apart souls, which we all are.

Suffering is not a wicked event, it is a tool for life.

A tool to understand life. Suffering like death is misunderstood.

In between all our needs are met.  

The dreams keep coming. A woman is pregnant and I still cant sing.

LMH/1/28/2020