Walking Barefoot With The Night

י'ט בתשרי תשס"ח

Last night, I sat outside in the dark.

Smelled deeply the wood. Caressed its surface, so real. Felt the cool gentle breeze on my face. Listened to the sounds of the night. Walked barefoot in the moist grass. Wiggled my toes in it. And wept speaking with the peeking spirits who surround.

Who have I become? Does it really matter?

Whomever I have become, I have not changed.

I have found.