“Silence!” spoke the magic in the twinkling right before the storm hit…
Making no ungraceful movements, to the untrained observer I would appear completely at one with the statue in whose shadow I am now embraced.
You see I am not alone…I am never alone.
For the words have been awaiting my return. The storm is their rejoicing, the songs they have been waiting to sing, and their celebration. They have found me once again, they have seen through all the dust that has accumulated and they know that I am coming. Shit, they are my words after all, I suppose they would have waited forever for my return.
It feels good to be recognized, to be known: they alone have recognized me!
Where I am going is of no greater consequence than where I have been…I know this now.
Soon I will be dancing on the shores of familiar soil.
The dancing, of course, is no less important than the feeling of having returned so fully that the ink permanently resides beneath my fingernails.
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