no fate awaits, powerless

The sun slips like honey off a table

Melting into tarnished and wasted sweetness

Stooped down, hand out, the other stabilizing the unbalance of night. 

Too much too soon and I can feel the stickiness and buzzing of my head fighting the dark.

Too little too late, and I stoop lower into the catacomb of the hive that is my life

Swarmed and stung

Pollinated and pollution-ED

I slip with the sun.

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So, throughout my blog I've discussed the frontal lobe fuse - when you actually become aware of consequences and ultimately become an adult.  Supposedly this happens at the tender age of twenty-five.  Today I am closer to twenty-eight.  I don't think it's a switch that flips, scientifically or timely.  I now believe it may start to slowly turn opposed to just flip and while doing so it consequentially takes your whole life flipside, inside out.  It feels scientific at times, uncontrollable and inevitable but at the end of the day - it becomes based on choice.  The adult chooses.  Timshel - thou mayest.  That gives a choice.  And not necessarily always the best choice but rather the harder choice, which is synonymous with right at that time only to be learnt for what it really meant later on.  When you fall but get up better for it.  Or one learns this immediately compared to ignoring it as the child would have.  It's called a number of things; regret, doubt, self-reflection, honesty, truth.  Namely consciousness.

_____________

I'm beyond the precipice.  I'm free falling into it all.  I've become powerless in the fall, but the safety is in the grace.  Of which I allow myself to give and to receive both significantly outward and securely inward.  I'm not getting any younger nor is anyone around me, and this propels me closer to the ground, the reality.  That we're all falling but not farther, instead nearer to who we are.  However we never really hit the ground.  It doesn't smack us in the face.  It's not that obvious.  We hover, we touch, we skim, and we grace the surface ever so slightly - which awakens our sense of selves momentarily.  As much as we hate near misses and love them at the same time, they're both exhausting and adrenaline fused, our whole body braces and our eyes focus on that ground.  Always.  Continuously.  Repeatedly.  The other surroundings get blurred as we fall, they're inconsequential - instead we keep our heads down and plan, overthink of escapes or contrarily we don't think at all (we actually never leaped in the first place) or, we can relinquish all control to something else.  To the actual fall and what happens at the bottom, the very pit as well as the last moment of control, when you give it away.  You give it to something greater than you.  And only then do you realise you weren't falling all this time.  Alternately you were being pulled closer to that something else.  You were being guided; you were being swooped up to and by the creator not the creation.  To be more spiritually grounded.  To be more whole.  To be more you.