A Fair Day

I feel fairly fatigued today, but I am in a good mood.  I was going to The Y, but I decided to come to Starbucks instead.  It is difficult to see beyond the veils today.  Everything seems normal, but I sense an undercurrent.  I don't feel like positing images with poetry, or writing something academic.  The blah blah blah has overcome my creative centers.  Writing on days like these makes it so I feel I am reaching for an apple so high in the tree.  It is so perfect and juicy, but I will never taste its divinity.  I am able to converse, but I am tired of the topics around me.  I want a mystic, with divinity, to at least speak to me, telepathically.  Being here, at the coffee shop, gives a possible opportunity to tune in in vicinity, or remotely.  The cards seem strewn all over the room, and I just want to play some gin.  I stay steady and allow the world to revolve in its own way.  I wish for the evolution of revolution.  It is time to know me in this time and place.  I answer as I need to, but one day I will step out onto the tracks and stop the train.