The stairs are humbling. Descend, ascend… balance, agility and endurance, at times I’m guilty of taking for advantage but today… These boxes have flipped my day.
. . .
All is done and all too quiet.
This place, my home… old uncultured wood delicately framing stone and brick. The vast space is spring-fresh clean that is juxtaposed to potential that lies within the aged and unrefined structure… a beautiful platform…
In moments after chaos, the silence of air brushing the space between the between gives relief before the charge to life. I pause and gaze out into the city.
The boxes tucked aside, the storm of tears and lightning cries rages just on the other side of my fingerprints. Exhaustion crashes hard and weakness robs me of the chaos charge and yet I desire to glide through the lights of the night.
Joy Jane June
27th short 04.18.2019 chaos charge