Slug

I'm not sure what it's been about today but I seem to be fighting a sluggish down spiral into sad. And I know by the morrow it will have passed me by like the movement of shadows climbing across the face of silver trees leaning against the setting of sunlight. It's not that I'm even aching over Karma today. It's this awkward loneliness....like I miss hearing the sound of God's voice whispering in my ear as if I hadn't heard it in so long I wouldn't remember it. Its the wondering if all this passion regained will really mean anything at all in the end. On one end of the spectrum I feel I could burst into flames and fling myself across the earth like a maddening comet and on the other end I want to walk in silence among stone bridges and fragrant gardens. I work in a grey cubicle in a grey building and today I feel trapped as if I know a part of me is not living somehow. I'm writing a novel that's light and fun and keeps my engine jolted in a direction but is it my calling?

I have a job,I'm not sick or begging on the street, I'm not cold or hungry or homeless. The other day a homeless person I passed on the street, bundled up for the coming winter, asked me for food. I looked them in the eyes with love and brought them a hot meal. For now I shall hold my tongue and hold of this sadness and keep watch because maybe I've helped angels unawares. They long to look into these human affairs don't they?