This is a photo of sunrise this morning, facing the Northern Cascades.
Anacortes:
There is something bittersweet about walking through this town at night. After writing in the Brown Lantern Tavern I became a ghost. The main drag was empty save for the brooding victorian buildings, and the mist making grey hair fall from the street lamps. I became the dry leaf scuttling along the gutter. I became the shadow that should not exist in the already dark alley. I became a hundred memories singing with the keen of the foghorn. Last night I stepped out of my skin and melded with the salt air, dark as the raven dreaming. I simply let the words flood with the tides and then ebb at sunrise. The sun always comes. A million years from now it will still come. But I’m going to experience, if not celebrate, every particle of my life now. Facing the ruthless truths of seemingly small decisions that killed dreams. Then meeting the sunrise, when I know I can go on. It’s another day. Let’s see what beauty or pain comes. Let’s be present. And let the sun come. The night will return soon enough.
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Anacortes:
There is something bittersweet about walking through this town at night. After writing in the Brown Lantern Tavern I became a ghost. The main drag was empty save for the brooding victorian buildings, and the mist making grey hair fall from the street lamps. I became the dry leaf scuttling along the gutter. I became the shadow that should not exist in the already dark alley. I became a hundred memories singing with the keen of the foghorn. Last night I stepped out of my skin and melded with the salt air, dark as the raven dreaming. I simply let the words flood with the tides and then ebb at sunrise. The sun always comes. A million years from now it will still come. But I’m going to experience, if not celebrate, every particle of my life now. Facing the ruthless truths of seemingly small decisions that killed dreams. Then meeting the sunrise, when I know I can go on. It’s another day. Let’s see what beauty or pain comes. Let’s be present. And let the sun come. The night will return soon enough.
9220 Words so far
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