I was born in the March dawn, the sun shining lightly through snowflakes, welcoming the new spirit of an old soul.
I wailed to return from whence I came.
But the others encouraged me to stay. You chose this, they whispered. Continue reading
old soul
The Structure of My Being
How old am I?
I peer inside myself, deep deep down, but really, the first shallow answer to that question is the same answer after I’ve dived into the well of my soul.
I am 482.
Perhaps older, but in our strange culture of age and the importance of youth, this number will suffice. Continue reading
roughwighting 