crispy… calmness in a strange twilight

So I find myself sitting around at night purging something creative from the marrow of my thoughts, the blurbs fledging for a glimpse of common sense or clarity so that I may document the moment. Maybe at some point I will revisit. Maybe I struggle with putting thought to paper. That locks it in, in black and white. Sure I can rewrite it or redo it. But Sometimes I don’t want to. Why is it hard for me to accept the passing moment as a moment and let it pass? Is it the great memories I have of favorite ideas that I never wrote down and simply can’t remember exactly what they were. Is it the great memories I have of favorite ideas that I wrote down and can simply remember exactly what it was. Yes, I contradict myself often. That is the beauty of being mortal.

Someday the wrinkled sleep that overcomes my complexion and sits in the corner of my eyes will smile as if it were actually my eye. There is something subtle and intent about blue, something that doesn’t matter to anyone except to anyone that matters, something that will wake up. Really, what color is blue? Is it eyes or sky? Is it CAT5 cable or cute cars? Is it planned or spur of the moment. Is it the darkness blindsided or the coffee forsaken? I will wake up to a new day smiling and never move my mouth except to yawn and sip my tea.

The comfort in complexity is simple for me. I am a creature of habit and patterns. My favorite is breathing in and out without thinking about it and is shortly followed only by eating. Yes, the love of family is all over the place. That is a given. It is a given that acknowledgement of love must be repeated repeatedly. True, there is complexity in comfort and it is not that simple. Somewhere I’m out there. Somewhere there are stacks of thoughts waiting for the gate to drop and spurt out. Sometime I may have an idea about this glimpse of myself I recall, about the struggle for the situation to harmony. How I arrived at this subtle blue hour moment of crispy… calmness in a strange twilight.