Spin

A leaf fallen, eddies and swirls. When I close my eyes all I can feel is the spin, the tidal crescendo building, sweeping, roaring up inside my head.

Dreaming of you, feeling your hands and soft breath, your ache and desire. How far we will have to reach to find each other, and what depths of the elements we must survive? Time is a mirror, a river that flows, always.

But are we rocks, standing firm, moving only by tiny increments? Are we walking within, able to fight the current to find each other?

Or are we only the curled fallen leaves, caught in eddies and swirls... spinning...

(art is Michèle Dessureault – Tourbillon #45)