On the run this morning. A seven am meeting calls. Sleep wants to linger and I must get running.
And yet, I hesitate, here at my computer, the glow of the lamp a golden halo on my desk, illuminating my hands, my fingers flying across the keyboard.
Outside, the world is dark, bathed in the soft darkness of 'just before dawn'.
And I must run.
It is that phrase, 'on the run' that is resonating. Keeping me here. Pulling me into deeper thought, into mystery, the past, that place where awareness lurks in the lingering dark, calling out for release if only... I give voice to the thoughts leaping up in anticipation of being formed into words.
For a beautiful read on words and language and thoughts on "We may as well believe," click on over to Rumi Day's one of Ruth's places and then... click on over to her blog, Syhnc-ro-ni-zing where she has a poem about the bird's flying and type setting.
I must run... the bird is on the wing.
May you have a day of wonder. A day of beauty.