I took a walk today and found myself all the way over at Indie Coffee where I read for a long time, just me, Barbara Kingsolver, and my lemongrass iced tea.
On the way home, I stopped by the lake and sat on a smooth rock on a far corner of the shore, tucked away from the sun-bathers and the frisbee-tossers. I’m not sure how long I sat there or how many times I listened to this song but the sun felt warm on my shoulders and the wind felt cool in my hair and time didn’t seem like an important marker. I thought about my neighbors that I don’t know and how their house burned down yesterday and how just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, something catches fire and you’re back where you started.
Let’s play this one out, until it explodes Into a thousand tiny pieces What’s your story, universe You were melody and numbers You were shapes, you were rhythms There are signs that we can learn To place over the heavens To predict how long we’ll burn How long will I last? Can I turn up the heat? What star am I circling? What’s circling me? Am I ebb, am I flow? My lack of control Turn it on, turn it off Say yes, play no
Things keep changing Things keep changing Things keep changing