he is like a maze of trap doors & smoke & mirrors

he is one beautiful diversion after another

i know the dizzy intoxication & ultimate frustration of walking a labyrinth well

i am not a masochist, i am an optimist

although some may say there is no difference

i believe i can find the magic book that opens the wall disguised as a bookshelf.

i may even read a few books in the process, so it is not all for naught if it's the wrong bookshelf.

i believe in depth-that everyone has an attic containing a treasure chest.

i like to believe i have a shot at finding it

even without a map boldly stating "X marks the spot"....

there is a certain warmth in surrender not felt in the heat of passion...

i am winters daughter sitting on the edge of summer

face tilted toward the sun, a little uncertain.

children of winter have an internal spark, ever resting in their gut. we must learn early on to generate our own light & warmth, for we are awake when the sun likes to rest. born into a time of hibernation, we are predisposed to search the shadow.....

we inherently recognize the value of comfort through layers, warm beverages, fire. there is a certain fear of exposure, a vivid sense of human frailty when faced with the elements. those who choose not to sleep through the blanketed white death will creatively protect themselves. they will grow fluffy down feathers, they will travel foraging for food & shelter in times of famine. they will collect blankets & kindling & stories to keep themselves warm.