Fractionally Fanning

Star-Spangling, Photo by BradensEye

You only need go one inch at a time. Sometimes life is best bitten at the rate of piecemealing. Where, rather than gulping it all at once, we’re gradually investigating the bend ahead that could include a sharp cliffside drop into a ravine of plungeful cataclysmic finality or the soaring surrender of convening with the treetops and cloudlines. If you’ve got playing cards at all (which by comprehensive means if you’re reading this you’re in the game, so you do), I believe that we’re each delivered a destiny for molecularly seizing the minutia to process our entireties. In complimentary instances, I think it’s calling on us to draw them all together into one magnificent masterpiece of detection. Being the star, a little fishy, scruffy as the sand, or glistening against the seashore backdrop. Fractionally fanning each unit or maybe much more.

Small acts that are just and right ~Ella Wheeler Wilcox, The Things That Count

Did they teach you how to see? Where the shadow of an arm in the picture offers as much depth as the crook of a smile or the color of a sky flatters the bird’s talent. The array of anatomies resting across tousled linens, perky melons, or the type that hug gravity. Perhaps you walk with a whisper or talk with the same. Noticing the components is a helpful way of stripping the heavy into strides you want to create. When every one of the variable granules that makes you whole is the punctilious starseeding for why you’re wholly unique. What happens when you cull through and pluck apart and pick up all of your traits is a bigger fullness of you. A vibrance so vast that all signs point to showering. Cleansing of a manner to an end that can be used as an emphasizing instrument we’ve put into items that are no longer useful in our realm.

Your shabby sin might simply be my appetizer. Every annoyance merely another plume left upon the windowsill of clarity that flocks come to catch my looking-glass attention Where am I supposed to ‘go’ while my disbelief throws an angry rager? They failed to pack my Earthbag with all of the proper literature. I seem to be minus the instructional handbook including chapters on nauseating doubt or glossy restraint. WWGD (What Would God Do) has approached my periphery with a pickling of vigor. Go on and tell any bossy-bursting-robbers of your bubbles that you’ve got an incalculable supply of those…