I went to sleep, and dreamt a tangled life where there were ornate bird houses hung within it's branches. I heard a sermon being preached, and a good book lying open to so many blind pages falling to the floor. I saw unfettered spaces, and people walking different paces along a path of overgrown weeds, and I wondered why a life of faith must be so complicated when the birds know perfectly well how to fly without these chains of worry, work, and fear that keep us hidden beneath the shadows of a brilliant life of sun, and moon, and a billion beckoning stars that beg us to see beyond the falling sky. "To life!" I cried; in spite of the ringing in my ears, and the desperation of simply breathing.
D.A. Wittler 6/8/18