Sol's Random Stories

In constant repose in view or not, above the atmospheric drama, the moon is unmoved by furious fronts swirled around the globe, unending caravans of flood and drought, dervish disasters spun over twenty-four time zones, if time were  a thing, this orb isn't saying tonight, or any other night, harmless cloud play, or hardened dance, assassin of last hopes, or both? With so many hearts lost, we'll know the next time it hides.

Some portals are obvious, others are not, it's the latter that direct essential pathways.  Tunnels bridge to realms of fresh musings in real dream-time, then awaken to new understanding. On the other side there is air infused with silver mist, ions of starlight from the next galaxy. There are trees rooted upon stranger paths, sign of divinity certain as the whirling zodiac. Destinations displace their end, journeys keep logs of memory, each step a measured pace. Some portals are obvious, others are sublime vortexes of departure- you're gone before you're here.