September 18, 2013
I watched a bird soar overhead. I saw a online video of a bird in flight. I heard a song by Fruit Bats called Picture of a Bird. The memories and sound soaring through my mind on feathered flight.
She found a phone by the road. It had a shattered screen. It had a shattered spine. It still was awake. I found the owner. We became friends.
He lives in Germany. She lived in Paris. I am in the Piedmont region of the New Old South.
They tear down our cities in the name of progress. The recent architectural additions are erased before they can be remembered. They put up new glass over old concrete. They rewrite the road names to make you forget the newish past. All is forgotten in the name of being correct. Loose sight of your roots and you will be lost. We all come from others. We have ties wrapped around our wrists and ankles (we are strapped together.) I am not a preacher but on occasion I want to share the news.
I spend a lot of time being uncertain of myself. I shake to my core. I try to give thanks. I appreciate the kind-hearted. I unplug so I can recharge. I want to do better. I want to do more. I pray for some sort of stamina and peace. I can’t have one without the other.
The sunset is more than I can take.
– kyle
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