Fair Flying

Gratitude is the weighty wind that picks us up and puts us in our place. It is the feeling we bear when we are reminded of how indebted we are to those that protect us, serve us, keep us safe, keep us loved. It is the gentle mist in the eyes of those who have seen death, and those who live in the place of others. It is the kisses and the hugs and the wishy-washy words of a thousand brave souls and a million more to come. It is the silky string that ties us together, delicate but never truly broken, as long as we keep our souls alive with the reminder of this memory. When all is said and done, gratitude is what keeps our feet on the ground. We look to the sky and we are enchanted because we know that there is always someone looking out for us, someone to protect us and love us no matter what. And there are those who have not even seen our faces, have not even had the chance to look upon the sparkle in our eyes, and return such requital. Gratitude is not just a feeling. It is a

To some, thought is a stream. It flows and does as it pleases, without stopping for a moment to take heed. It brushes by brush and dances with fish and it is eager to join the closest, biggest body of water. It's stubborn and foolish and full of meandering and trepidation, all the while leaving chaos in its wake. To others, thoughts aren't unified. Thoughts are stitches. They are thick at first and fill our mind's skin with familiar soreness and good old fashioned swelling of the soul.  They stick out and can be quite ugly at times, and sometimes they're fit to burst. They pull and stretch. They can be painful, constantly reminding us that they're there. It takes some effort to pull them out, to free them and become free.  When the thoughts are finally removed, they must be gently tugged away, either by ourselves or another, and with each strand of thought flying away, our minds open, and we enter healing bliss. ("And then you're fine",