today, i'm in a place of slow settling peace.
i know now, that what i need is to not be able to see over the trees.
i need to lose mysef in the mountains, and cleanse myself clean in the american river.
a baptism a long time coming.
the journey thus far has been paved in angst ridden scripture.
holy words for a holey soul.
when do lies become the only thing we read as truth?
when does so much beauty in a town, make me see the ugliness in a city?
the manzanita dances to the tune of the sun.and i will follow it's lead.
i can't remember the last time i lied to anyone except myself.
people say i just don't talk about the truth, and that's about the same as lying.
but my heart is nearly pure.
it's been baked, and skewered, and cooked, and seared, and eaten raw.
what i have left.