im windowless these days in my office of mis-matched wood and newfound solitude, but through the square of glass in the office door across from me i peek through my co-worker’s window and catch the sunlight filtering through the youth-green leaves of the single tree and feel myself detached, aloof for a moment from “the world out there”. am i afraid these comfort days to test my post-adolescent wings and discover stories inside myself i’ve yet to acknowledge; dusty possibilities i’ve allowed to settle into the backdrop of what it means to be [shawna] and gloss over with the mediocrity of day-to-day routines and simple pleasures.

i’m crazy about blue, darling, and i’ve become so FAMILIAR with the coolness of it against my bare toes; the way it settles behind my eyes at night with the feather-weight of a lullaby and convinces me i’m doing just fine, really, sliding along smooth as satin on the coattails of sanity. i’ve never been one to waste my wonder words (what place has lip service, when i’m always playing for keeps?).
i can fool you with the best of them, but kid yourself not — there’s a truthfulness behind my liquid eyes, and i am constantly trying to turn the world inside-out to wear its very core as a second skin. i’ve heard it said that when you come to your witz end (or is it wit’s? perhaps my wits are witz, for z’s are so often under-used in the wake of s’s sheer slip-and-slide smoothness), there you will find God – but in these dazzle days of faith-and-springtime i see no end to my witz and yet i find God everywhere i go, waiting quietly and sometimes not-so-quietly for me to stub my toe and realize my foolish attempts to harness the wind are nothing more than idealistic fancies of a young girl struggling vainly against the clouds in her eyes that keep her from measuring the bluest sky.

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