this far into my life i am starting to feel more absurd than ever, more confused or unsure that my existence has an objective.

sometimes dancing makes me feel like living, i guess. so there’s that.

dancing’s such a tricky high though, it lets you come in and become something else for a while, the rhythm maybe.  like all highs soon fades.

lamentably, i have peeks of myself as a sparkler. one of those firecrakers that lets you become intimate with it, assures you it does not burn or impale, and for a few minutes makes you feel like a fairy in a tale. sparklers do not inspire awe, but they remind us about fire and sparks and the fleeting  beauty of  oxidation.

i am not patient enough. laughably, all i have been doing for seven months is waiting.  a novice beginning my immortality training.

baby my baby complicates and beautifies and trivializes all this musing. there i have a clear as day objective, to love well and provide well.

i see my self from above, hawk flying over owl nest, and the mirror of the sky infinite and reflections losing meaning and becoming pattern.

buoys: laughter, babygaze, and faith in eventual revelations.

all religion, in my mind, breaks down to prescribing acceptable buoys and recognizing them together.

i want the freedom to pick my own, and to me ultimate faith is the faith in myself that i will go on fighting, loving, and seeking my way.