AM musing

Rain coming down outside. It is early: dawn. The light is that pale, bashful kind of blue. The world is still half-dreaming. Quietly Bob Dylan and it all implies me to write. I realize again how long it’s been since i Listened to music. It has been there all along and I suppose  I have not. Clear, ringing, crisp and contoured, and less invented than all the terrors that keep me away from thisnow… “you got all the lovin’ honeybaby I can stand…” people are missing life, yes, I miss it: the everything wool that loomifies the tapestry of pain, rain, drain, suffering, and elation and so on and on . Somewhere in the background God shrugs, wondering why and how it is we get so dis-tract-ed, then maybe he puck-snickers a little, because at any moment there must be at least few people that are where I am now: sitting up, early and alone, and nudged by the powdered elbow of the Mystery. Remembering this feeling from some time before life. And maybe that is all that is necessary. Maybe this is all you need. Maybe maybe--so you take it when you need it, because the morning that comes after night is everybody’s friend.