I’ve spent my day reading posts from my Tiny Peppers. There’s about 60ish of us, and the journey through their words has pushed me through a plethora of expressions and a myriad of feels. I’ve been terrified, enthralled, heart-warmed, and mystified. I’ve listened to songs, watched photo slideshows, broke the fourth wall with Deadpool, and saw a cat smack something in the face. I’ve seen poets write prose, and storm troopers write poems, and ducks draw cartoons. I’ve read words that sang, and silence that danced, and punctuation that frosted freshly baked ideas.
After so long without internet, or you, this is my greatest treat. This invisible web that connects us. It is so very sweet.
When we play, when we write, when we share, I can almost see it– shimmering like a child’s laugh, glimmering like tears unshed, tangling sense into itself like ribbons on a May Pole.
The ribbons are beautiful as they pattern themselves delicately, decorating even the smallest parts of my heart, allowing me to see even the most nano-nature of you.
You are a cloud of thought through their dance– magic down to the core of your most active molecules. You are energy– potential and kinetic. You are falling, floating, melting, imprinting, and flying through a sky that was made just for you.
You are a miracle, and after losing sight of you for so long– I don’t even want to blink.
I don’t want to miss a minute more of your possibility.
So I won’t.
You are building a world with your words, and I will be here to read you. I will breathe in your typed magic, and I will rawr out love– because I’m home once more, tangled into the pattern of our connection once again.
Somewhere at the core of us is an invisible web woven from miracle. It is full of energy– spicy in motion, sweet in its stillness– and, if you have faith, you can balance your way over the narrow threads.
I’ll be walking them, too.
Closer to you,
and the rainfall of your brilliance.
This was just supposed to be a warning post. Nonsense Parade Commencing! I don’t know what I’ll be writing over the next 30 days, but it will more than likely be more than 30 posts, and many will be silly.
Are you ready for this?!
The Daily Post is asking us to show them “Treat” in a photograph. Being able to take a picture of yourself, being haunted by a Poblano (I call it the Pepper of Blogocles), and post it on the internet is the sweetest treat I’ve received all year.
I call it freedom.