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Dust Motes

Tags: writing

This is how I come to love the dark in writing. Without a map. Now comprised of Trappists and interesting people. From my bookshop's Rolodex. It started with a fascination. Then withdrawing from my insomnia while stroking my black cat. Now I am living in the dark aware of my proclivities to steep my tea with a bit of truth. There is honesty in the dark when a shadow is my muse. It started with my grandpa as he whittled and spit in a jar. It started with grandma as she collected the hair of frogs. This is how I come to love the dark in writing. "Now I must go, my dust motes are showing."      


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