FootprintsintheWind.com

All to ourselves
we have all generations
and they us

:- Doug.

This reflection is not inside the glass nor outside. Where then?

Conversation is a looking glass
showing us free of our isolation
and its loads to carry
without taking from us
our quirks runny nose and scar

We too are mirrors one to the other. As these three mirrors turn, as images play and blend, this theater of relativity, it begins to dawn, plays out for us our malleability in the face of the grandchildren of our grandchildren, the next of the next—and theirs.

:- Doug.

In your conversation
do you sleep
or do you dream?

:- Doug.

We are no longer magnet—we are pulled away—not repulsed.

:- Doug.

If the ancients did not mention the color blue maybe our mention of the color of our veils will give to those next after next.

:- Doug.

Processes are threads
between us
Grey fabric
separates us
connects us
pulls us
to stand
outside
overlapping
in breezes
Flash!

:- Doug.

We enter the Great Timeless.

:- Doug.

Ecstasy

Leaning in to one another
Leaning out together
Leaning toward whole

:- Doug.

More precious and with looser grasp.

:- Doug.

Together we help us attend the infinite entering this moment. Continuously.

:- Doug.

We confuse the doing for the accomplishment. Doing is the greater worth.

:- Doug.

Together we face into the wind.

:- Doug.

I do not care if I die. And I want that the work gets stirred.

:- Doug.

Dark is the same every-
where embracing you with all
in transparency

:- Doug.

Dark gestates
Fallow fecundates
Nothing heals

:- Doug.

From our communal dark—our vanishing smallness and ineffectuality—arises our concern for generativity.

:- Doug.

What requires dark? Pregnancy, roots, seeds, chicks in eggs, you. What must be left alone? And when does light interfere? When do we know better? When is it better to know less?

:- Doug.

We can be blinded by light
We can see other in dark

:- Doug.

We’re always unsure
There’s always a wrinkle
That’s how the dark gets in

:- Doug.

There is a pain of separation. There is a greater pain of never having come together.

:- Doug.

Every layer of our curtains is fuel for fire. Fire to consume us—to pull us into dark unknowns opening out.

:- Doug.

Without wile and without while. Wile away some hours with you.

:- Doug.

Here I smile into my sleep—or is it into my waying?

:- Doug.