bubble
early morning is like nothing else in my world

I know I’ve said this already, and I’ll try not to say it again (too much), but it is morning and can’t help but write it. I have read that it was Ernest Hemingway’s favorite time to write. It is my time to learn, when an aura of peace surrounds and envelops me — an aura I feel. It is so all-encompassing and pure I pray it stays w| me for the rest of my waking hours. I liken it to a bubble.

and bubble is most likely the proper word,

because at some point it bursts. I don’t want it to burst. I want it to expand and move with me wherever I go. Perhaps it doesn’t because the spirit in which I dwell in the mornings ‘isn’t with me’ when I separate myself from my time with God. That is exactly how I view it, although I have never put it into words. It’s why I want a tattoo — the word or theme that bursts through some mornings, written on my wrist as a reminder of the morning joy. Yes, I have lists of tattoos. Have written on my wrist or hand a few, with blank marker, then forgot. Or was embarrassed. Or didn’t want to explain.

a word or phrase hovers about me

… “isn’t with me.” How could it not? Does it only dwell when whichever book I read is open? No. Because I have left a book or two open for that purpose, so that the words or impetus rise & swirl in my soul and mind. It doesn’t work. I am looking for an external solution to my internal needs. Need. I don’t need. I want. That makes a difference.