Sitting at the table with a cup of tea and Moonlight Sonata to keep me company I think of upcoming birthdays and how to celebrate and hand painted teacups that predict some impending danger. The truth is most of my thoughts don’t make it past my skull. They dash against the edges and sometimes make it out of my ears or my nose, but my mouth is the last place. They say we don’t have enough words to really connect with complex concepts but maybe we need less words to connect. Less talk more soul? More soul. Yes, that concept as beautiful as cellar door. Soul Door Cellar More more more. Carved to release the masterpiece that’s always existed behind too many words. Words too many. I’m hesitant and disheveled. Even when I write. But a masterpiece is here anyway. In the dark. Behind the cellar door. Soul. The tea is gone and moonlight sonata has ended. But the beat must go on and the dangers must impend…

“…for this is life”