Mornings are that rough snooze I barely miss. It’s the
huge stretch after knees crack to remind me age is but a
loose sound of movement. It’s a dragging feeling, a
reminder to when my laughter teased Father Time.
It is peaceful, knowing my mental foundation wasn’t a pretty
make over but these years of painful lessons I massage into
my seasons, and when I fall, I’m quick to spring back to my
youthful visage. I mean, winter brings pain, the death of
beauty and the crystallization of movement. Yet summer can
always be seen stretching my soul like it’s uplifted. One
moment I hyperventilate the other I’m free falling to the
bottom of freedoms pool of love. A love for the sensation of
old age being the companion I’ve wanted since my youth.
These astral phases become astral projections of the peace that
I recall seeing. This Growth is the key to my happiness, it’s
the years which times before turned the sun dial and I became
the time father dreamed of.