Discovering other paths ought to make us wander further into the woods, yes?

What if our souls, after so many, many flights, never return to our bodies?

What if I never really got off that plane in 2008 from Tokyo?

What if I never left that ferry to Gibraltar?

What if I never stepped drunk from that train into the Serbian night in 1994 and never got turned back?

What would I know? Who would I be?

What if you never met me in Vancouver in September?

So much of everything would be different.

But you did; and I did all of those things, too.

I love vapour trails and looking up and thinking about the origin and destination of those planes and the passengers; all headed somewhere they were needed or even loved.

I wonder if they have had dinner yet or are wondering outside their view? Who is watching them fly past?

I am, on those clear Alberta skies.

And blowing kisses, too.

Because landing is the best thing ever.

-Love Sid.

xoxoxoxoxo

“The pine tree seems to listen, the fir tree to wait: and both without impatience — they give no thought to the little people beneath them, devoured."

What is it about a pine that makes me feel better all the time with those soft arms out and reaching for a sap-filled hug?

What is it about a pine tree that makes me wander like that and hold you tight forever with a hug, my soft arms; boughs tight and sap-filled.

What is it about this existence that makes us all weep at the thought of it all and again the next night for the same reasons.

What is it all?

What is it about a woman? What is it that fucking drives me like a Wartsila-Sulzer RTA96-C turbocharged two-stroke diesel engine; 108,920 hp.

Fuel.

Fuel drives it all, be it love or sunshine or oil.

Hello, fuel.

-Love Sid

xoxoxo

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”

I don’t think that flowers blooming make any noise or sound even.

I know for sure that fallen leaves crunch underfoot in retreat on October afternoons in Alberta.

I know that from chasing your scared soul across provinces, GMC Sierra in high gear over mountains; cigarette in clenched hand as you read maps and they all lead here all at once.

You are all the cherry blossoms all at once drifting down and snowing my earthed path.

You are my path.

I love you, Starfish.

-Love Sid

xoxoxoxo