The Wild lives within.
She is not dead. She is not sleeping.
She is waiting.
The Wild is waiting for us to wake. Waiting for us to love, to reach out, to touch the stranger's heart, to listen to those on the bus, to smile at tailgaters, to hold a hand out to the person yelling on the corner, to give, to receive, to share what is inside.
The Wild waits.
She waits in the stillness of stone and tree, earth and sky.
She understands time. She understands you. She waits for you.
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Wow! This sent shivers down my spine. So moving!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Mizz Bee!
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