december 24, 2003

finish what you start

a measure of raindrops on the window pane, the limited pre-dawn activity smeared across the glass - lights flickering, melting, dissolving - firebird essence of solitude on the tip of my tongue. dampness seeps in through the screens while a slight breeze transforms lazy moisture into minuscule, crystalline bullets - a kaleidoscopic weapon that disappears before the mind can respond, move out of the way. the air tastes like cedar.

these seattle winters, shocking. lips/hips/toes/fingers all a bit chilly, tips pink but not burned by the cold. coffee brewing, insomnia the order of the morning...

my mind usually tricks me, so it's not particularly surprising when i find myself longing for past pains. i've been entertaining the idea of a bonfire - time to collect misc.angst.paraphernalia and let it go. i recall throwing flower petals into a bonfire once - a litany of past acquaintances running through my head as the bud grew slim, naked, eventually diving in after itself. if i'd put more thought into it at the time i'd have probably cleansed myself more thoroughly - lightened my proverbial load. no doubt such an activity would have assuaged over the last several years.

red sky in morning, sailors take warning. a fine rouge velvet has settled on the city. i can barely make out the cloud differential - the wind is picking up, although the rain has subsided for the moment. as dead-of-night graduates to break-o-dawn, early risers are contaminating the city's smooth lines, barely five a.m. and the arterial clogging has begun.

last snapthought before slipping to sleep: yes, it's time to move on. finally.