A Portrait in Time

two days of rain in the desert is enough of a shift in a elemental states to flip your synthysis overnight. Two days of rain, let it be nine, a revolution will happen if I give it time, if it gives me rain, I can discover my old self over again.

Distance from the old formula and associations are sufficient now. Dwelling in the space in between. Who she was, and who she is yet to be. Two poles on the horizon and the space in between the woman who is no longer the wife has a world at her fingertips to unfold in. Unravelled from the restless space of restriction. Tattered and frayed on the edges, the warp and the weft still bold and reaching from the heart. This magic carpet of life still has some enchanted journeys left.