Dream Scribe

Under The Night Sky.

It feels safe.
I trust this kind of dark.
The night holds onto every kind of secret there is.
It's a habit to stand as still as can be and lift my face to the night sky, trusting that it stretches for miles unseen across my country. The sun left hours ago and has risen elsewhere and will rise again and again within the next twenty-four hours. And the night will follow again and again.

I feel a new momentum in healing. A vibrant light lives inside me, dimmed only by the day-2-day cares and stressors of daily life on this planet.

The edge of insanity closes in quickly at times and the difference now, is that I push back with strength I never knew I had. (Take that, you bastard.)
Sanity is a precious thing. The mind needs it to wrest itself free from pathology. Whatever it takes, wherever this journey takes me, I have what I need to deal with the moment in hand.
Hope is a sun which rises to greet some hard won joy. What a work of the soul it truly is.

Very sleepy...