Hazy existence.


The edge of my existence feels hazy as I struggle to wake from my deepest sleep in weeks. Between reality and fantasy the hinted touch is still on my arms, and the grains of sand have officially slowed to the rhythm of a beating heart as my mind follows suit. I ponder what walking through my unconscious would feel like now, knowing that every door is open and even the shadows are illuminated. I hazily watch a cloud, feel it as it envelopes my soul momentarily, I let it pass through me, I have fallen and my wings flutter gently regaining strength as the cloud holds me just long enough for my soul to rest.

Karen Hayward © 2016


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