the world awaits

the world awaits for the appearing of the children of light. like those awaiting the holidays, we perch beneath thickets, long hair wrapped between fingers. october is the most distinguished month, for we await the harsh winter. and, being dreamers, we hope for an ever harsher winter, one where our nesting will be deeper, and our dwellings downier. in the oldness of the coldness we drift into sleep, to wake in reveries where the sun shines even brighter beneath the astral tension which is the city, beneath the grids and the parallel lines, remembering where the heart resides. remember where the heart will fly. smell of cold air, smell of cold self, dont get lost in the moment, your friends are near, and they need you here.