When I usually open the 'compose' page on my blog, I have the words running through my mind. At least a couple of paragraphs would have marque-ed in my mind's eye before I see this blank canvas, ready to spill out through the keyboard.
Today however, I did feel the urge to write but for once I didn't know what about. The rains have in their wake a stillness that I sometimes romance in my mind. Only wish the stillness were in my spirit too. You know, all the divine romance thing, I spoke earlier about. Sometimes being a restless spirit is nice. But sometimes, I visualize gazing long into a silent, shimmering lake, sprinkled with moonlight, seated on a wrought iron bench in a lovely lawn. Perhaps just before dawn. When it is rumoured to be the darkest. And then it would be nice to see the silver streaks replaced by liquid gold flowing down from the skies and on to the surface of the lake. Fresh morning air and a promise of brightness, hope, clarity that each dawn promises to bring.
The promise of a new day. Perhaps a day that shall usher in a crystal clear mind that shall not be rippled even when several stones are hurled at its waters.
And for that day, I wait.