Streams of unconscious delivery

I'm not sure who said what and when, but I do know that the moment the words were out there would be no going back. We tried, my god we tried, to undo the mess of spilling vowels that worked their way quickly into our porous minds like water into a sinking ship, but the Suetonius words rang clearly across our stormy skies.

Now, as Autumn falls gently yet surely into outstretched open arms, we muse on what happens next. Will ravens peck at our tightly shut eyes, our hearts, or will we be protected from this inhospitable fate?

My heart rests in hope yet the reality of these reddened leaves that fall around my feet make me aware of the roads that could yet open up.

Joy is such an open mistress. It has served me well.

A X