It Will Not Make Sense

          It will not make sense, still a rest is required. So I dream in fiction as I write tired words. Thinking on the blurry lines between what is and isn't true. Remembering the colorful dragonfly seen earlier in the day. Wondering what this everyday marvel must see, flying here and there and everywhere. No agenda. No quota to produce. Just a life to live, fully present in the moment life is lived through the air of everyday that ushers in the extraordinary. 

            It will not make sense, still an outlet is necessary. So I see through creativity as I write tired words from a tired soul. Thinking on the blurry lines between what is and isn't true. Considering the kind dog, make that two, curious what they're thinking when I gave some attention to them in passing. Offered kindness, given friendship, when they didn't seem to have it then. "A friend, a grace!", I imagine them thinking; no place to go but life and the living of it. No to-do list to cross off. I envy them. Still, even in the busy there's grace, grace in those moments of peace in a relentlessly busy day. Grace in the hustle, where life reaches out to me, speaks a different language than I, and invites me to slow down and listen for a moment, find hope in the hustle. I'm not fluent in intentionality, but I'm learning to be so, even when it's from the unlikely such as bugs and dogs. Told ya it wouldn't make sense; but maybe that's okay. 

Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!