Thoughts. Random words and unconnected sentences.
A part of chapter here, a growing idea which is not ready yet to become real, and more flashes of stories flying by, untouchable. I feel like I’m chasing fireflies but my net is too small and so I end up with one little shining creature at a time.
And I’m anxious, eager to write them all down and let magic happen but we do know that magic comes with a price and so I need to slow down. One thing at a time is good, one little butt-shinning creature will draw more to the light.
And then, suddenly, I wake up the middle in of the night because the light blinds me. The butt-shining creatures are too many, too beautiful and I can’t wait any longer. My jars are ready to burst from the light and the bugs I’ve stuffed inside. My face aches from the wide smile.
Then I know it’s time. It’s here. Now.
So, who cares if the sun didn't rise yet, who gives a shit about the million other things that need to be done? That moment right there, is what I was waiting for. So I grab the jars, toss the lids and let the fireflies illuminate my way.
Who needs more than passion?