The last couple of days I have wandered and enjoyed my time in the land of make believe. The land of where nothing is real. The pieces are coming together. There is no bitterness, or hurt as the pieces are put together; it just is.
There is a peace that comes knowing you did what you could, the best that you could. The strength that comes from understanding the fear that once engulfed me. Acknowledging it and just accepting it and moving on.
In this land of make believe I realize what is and what is not. The irony of reality and the reality of the not.
The birds are singing and they are lovely. Visions of them flying in circles as they spiral upwards and spread out to be free, to fly high, and to live. Some birds stay together in a flock, others go their on way, each has the right to choose. Either way it is their right way.
Soon winter will be coming. Yes, winter comes even in this land of make believe. It is a part of life. It is welcomed and longed for. Each season has it's own unique beauty, it's unique voice, and unique charm.
If you could listen to the season's what would their voices say to you? Would listen and hear? Would they whisper? Would they shout? Or would they sing in tones that we have never heard before and mesmerize us and enchant us to the point of bubbly joy?
I yawn again even though the sun is out and turn around and make my pillow comfy as I drift again into the sleep as the fatigue wins once again and I once again in the middle and the safety of the land of make believe.
