The other evening I sat and visited with a good friend. When I could have easily spilled forth with accolades neverending in her direction
she patted
me on the back over and over again. Her talents branch out and reach upward...she is like a vase housing a bouquet of wildflowers. She has a beauty about her that enters the room before she does. She has a kind soul coupled with a wild streak. Her genuine core keeps her grounded even while her aspirations have her floating upward. When a woman such as she is kept under glass the fog of her dreams does not block out the light--instead it creates the matte canvas upon which she paints her future. After years of etching her dreams
upon the glass the moment finally comes when the glass breaks...whether by her neverending devotion to her calling or by the casting of a stone...it almost does not matter for all she knows is that the air is fresher, the view is clearer, and the boundaries are gone. The world she has been watching from a distance rushes upon her with a force unlike anything she has ever felt. The winds of change sting her face and tousle her hair and she only wants to open her mouth wide as if to swallow it and keep it so that it can continue to churn within.
The other evening I sat and visited with a good friend. When I could have easily spilled forth with accolades neverending in her direction she patted me on the back over and over again. Her talents branch out and reach upward...she is like a vase housing a bouquet of wildflowers. She has a beauty about her that enters the room before she does. She has a kind soul coupled with a wild streak. Her genuine core keeps her grounded even while her aspirations have her floating upward. When a woman such as she is kept under glass the fog of her dreams does not block out the light--instead it creates the matte canvas upon which she paints her future. After years of etching her dreams
upon the glass the moment finally comes when the glass breaks...whether by her neverending devotion to her calling or by the casting of a stone...it almost does not matter for all she knows is that the air is fresher, the view is clearer, and the boundaries are gone. The world she has been watching from a distance rushes upon her with a force unlike anything she has ever felt. The winds of change sting her face and tousle her hair and she only wants to open her mouth wide as if to swallow it and keep it so that it can continue to churn within.
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