Around here we free-write for five minutes on Friday. Here's the unvarnished result:
Real.
As in reality.
As in the stuff that happens every day.
As in the concrete block that weighs
down my dreams either sending them crashing to the ground, or
preventing them from floating out into the exosphere for sheer lack
of planning.
Reality can be so disheartening, so
concrete, so real.
Reality
can be so grounding, so concrete, so real.
The
possibilities of life are myriad, swirling, dizzying midway lights
from the merry-go-round on a balmy spring evening.
Reality
is the stuff that happens every day.
Make
it purposeful.
Make
it
Real.
Read other musings about real over at Gypsy Mama's:
