atrasties

I woke up this morning and began reading and when I finished the book I put it down, got out of bed and was so full of sorrow and longing; yet at the same time was the owner of a newly refreshed outlook. I can't quite explain nor do I feel I should in the chance that I might in fumbling, lessen the experience.
But I'll probably still try.
I seem very aware today of things, as if this is a culmination of the last few days and a product of my own burgeoning well being both mentally and spiritually. My fingers feel like they have a sense of their own and are moving accordingly in shapes and forms that the mind only suggests and they decipher and make unquestionably personal.
There are colors of light in shadow that I have been missing and a curve in my smile that arcs softly to one side that might not even be a smile, that I haven't seen for some time. It seems some form of the muse has returned and I know where she resides now, and possibly how the gate is opened.

Reminisce with an open heart and strangely colors shall dance upon the window of the soul, alighting softly to be caressed by the touch of your lash and then off again. Twirl softly fingers in the air to stir the drifting pixies and watch them brandishing devilish grins attempt to leap back upon your hand to aid in the release of your tight finger hold on the edge of sense. The fall you perceive is a trick of the eye and if but you reached out you toe the ground would rush to meet it. I know this as my hands are free to clap and drum and eagerly await yours to spin over the floor in a terpsichore of glee. Brightly dance we with the colors and pixies all.