Where Angels Transit
In the Time Between Moonset and Sunrise there is glory, wonder and passion.
It’s 6 a.m. I know this because the neighbor’s truck roars to life like it always does. One day, I’ll ask him where he goes each morning with such discipline and predictability.
I’ve never been that person—reliable in the ways people tend to admire. My skills lie elsewhere. I think I was born into a world unsure what to do with people like me.
We are artists and writers, dancers and dreamers. Lovers who sit and think about clouds all day. We wake with the morning sun, and some days we see only darkness—while others, we float, effervescent, in that golden space between the clouds and heaven.
The place where angels transit.
This morning, I’m giddy. Dizzy with delight and imagination. My mind floods with possibilities. The neurotransmitters are transmitting.
Everything feels open and alive.
Is this a byproduct of stress relief? Or were my vivid dreams exciting and alive so they inspired this state of euphoria where lately there has been so much fear? I do not care, I will simply seize it and hold it here as long as one can grasp at the mist.
I will ask the muse to sit with me beneath the sycamore and trade her ideas and mine. To laugh and flirt with disaster at the edge of out of control. For what can come from denial of something real except sadness, and possibly madness?
I’ve retired to my favorite spot on the floor so I don’t wake the house. I wait for the black sky to start glowing with the birth of day. Strange therapy this; the hard cool of the bamboo that magnifies the hum of a house I this quiet moment. I can hear the million thoughts of those I love transmitting through the universe.
It’s the darkest hour—between moonset and sunrise. I think I’ll go sit in the yard and watch the light arrive. I will trade my mental choir for the serenade of the waking cardinals and jays, the buzzing of the hive and the rush of wind in the tree tops.
And I’ll pray. For you. For me.
That the glory of this day lingers long enough to warm our souls.
You feel like peace in a world that never stops screaming.
#journal #memoir #bipolar #creativewriting #dawnthoughts
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Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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