“Now I see the secret of making the best person: it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.”
Upon, first sight, a tingling fear of the social orphan. The messenger from a village made of stone. She wore no ‘safety’ harness, while traveling pagan streets…She had been…deliberately, alone.
But, after a barefoot resistance, I dared to care.
Enamored! There had been no forsaking the ever-changing moods of her hair.
A blistering fever soon discovered me. Unearthed, my wants. My needs. A constant ache! Coveting that seasoned tranquility.
Once I found the maiden of my cares. My spine straightened. As though, I had been under her watchful stare. However, like a childish fairy tale from a foolish heart.
I had been left with a bush of burning questions.
And, no one to command me.
Just the constant ache of my seasoned tranquility.