As I spent today wandering about the walkways, waterways, and byways I experienced the recurring notion that I was not expected to be anywhere, to be anyone other than where I was and who I was at that particular moment.

It's terribly soothing to know that what simply is is simply fine.

And that is all I could hope to have and to be: that which is simply fine.

Meanwhile, life goes on and on in its imploding circular funnel and I'm carried on the backs of so many tormenting waves. Waves of emotion, waves of demand, waves of breath and movement. And yet I've learned how to ride atop their crests instead of merely being dragged along in their merciless wakes.

Even in sleep I've somehow seemed to come into a position of comfortable coincidence.
We're passengers on the same vessel, sleep and I.
It's a ship of healing and rejuvenation.
And the tingle of fresh skin is just as tantalizing as the evasive comforts of a good night's slumber.

And now the question is when will these new foundlings be given freedom to roam and burn and scrape and renew?

I say here, I say now.
And then I sleep.