Today, I shall try to avoid using any and all “eeeeee’s” in this blog post. Thou shalt go far away, thou horrid thing!
Foul and corrupt contagion, fly far away. My world has grown wary of thy visit. My world has grown sad. My world sings no joyful songs for thou hast stayed too long. No singing for our air is full of foul and corrupt contagion. No laughing for fright of spirits that fly away with nary a gasp.
To pray, to wish, to find joy.
Mortality that rips us from joy go far from humans. Our story has grown small. A cat visits. Purrs. Bright zing of food. A bowl of soup brings light. Fruit. Salads with crunch and tart flavors and rich piquancy. Long walks away from humans. Falling and rising suns. Warm air. Snowfall.
Finding joy in small things.
A blank book. A paint brush. A word or two.
Why not fly away? With magic wings of story and almost touch.
Finding joy in things that soar.