This is turning into a log of what happens when people get caught in a dark, imobile hole. Sometimes my writing pours. Sometimes it trickles. Sometimes you may not see me at all. Not good for the ones who need me to get a rating. I wish I could stop it; the world’s darkness feels like thick, black, tar that will drown me, I like my shell.
Two folks, Neria, who’d have thought; and Jan shot a couple sparks of light into the shell. Okay, I’m coming. Five months later I read Jan writing exactly what I’m thinking. Who am I to write this?
My nerve to visit soul food hasn’t managed to emerge, yet. I’m reading everything though. Haven’t seen you for, the date said November. The Kaliedosoul sounds interesting. And, since reading it, Heather may not understand how much I wish I could have grabbed the back of the bike Darryl rode out. He is the lucky one. He’s free! No pain. Father and Mother will take good care of him. The Lord may ride with him…cool!
I’m trying to find my way back to the Abbey. There is still much darkness in the cave, though. I will reach her…soon. There is warmth in the attic; and a window.
