Wandering in the Wind

 I am here and you are there.  That is where it seems to be every day.  I cannot put together this puzzle.  It just does not click.  There is silence in the darkness and fatigue in the moment.  Today bleeds into tomorrow.  My cat purrs me awake and lies on my heart.  He is warm and free to be with me.  His energetic gifts are great.  He crawls into my arms as I watch TV.  Today, I order some Mexican to eat in tonight.  There is energy in food that others create with their own hands.  I have fallen flat in my writing activity.   Creation is the act of giving an authority to the world, like a breath from deep in the wandering lungs.  It is an international key.  "Be careful," is what they say in telepathy over and over.  It is warlockery.  "I am concerned," is so witchcraft of all authority.  I will be fine, and I will be great in the line of fire, but I will no longer see the world as an effortless journey.  I step back and experience a call from a Saudi Crown Prince.  The cries of the prayers are strong.