storm

The wild and restless god is afoot tonight. He stirs the world with his being which is poetry; which is prayer. He calls out. I sit on the doorstep, in his shadow, holding on to a cup of tea, and to wishes, and all the words of love.

The night is alive with all the secret things which dare not risk humankind. The shy small animals, the wayward poets and adolescents, and the fairy kind. Sometimes it feels like the night is more awake than daytime. And for all those starlight adventurers and doorstep dreamers, tonight, the god dances.



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