Dreaming Existence

 Well, here it is, Saturday once again, and me not feeling inspired to write much. There has been a lot of personal upheaval for me that I have kept to myself but that has left me feeling drained and uninspired.  Cue  Dan Antion over at No Facilities  . I try to never miss any of his interesting, informative and colorful posts, especially on Saturday, where you might find yours truly tending bar sometimes. He may not know it but I rely on his posts for knowing the SoCS prompt theme.  Check out his post today to see who will be making a surprise visit to the bar real soon. He’s a celebrity of sorts for the bartenders there.  Back to the prompt which is more than a hundred. We are to write about something we have more than a hundred of. Okay, forget the fact that we are in a puzzle addiction right now. The last one was a real challenge, but oh so lovely.  God, I love butterflies. This one took a long time. There was no logic. It was like a paint by numbers puzzle but without the map. The

  Before God’s creation I am humble, knowing we are but grains of  sand along the shores of time- and standing alone are  nearly invisible. Together we can form  mountains, reaching to the heavens as we lift each other up, offering a steady shoulder when needed and accepting a foothold when we falter ourselves.  Nothing truly great is ever accomplished alone, nothing in creation can be known without another.  Community, cohesion, cooperation, appreciation, admiration, aspiration to be all that we  dream. Together. Humble. CKP copyright 2020

  Can you see me there... Do you dare to even glance? I am the sunrise that says,  “We are still here.” I am that which crawls upon the ground. Do you think about treading upon my back?  And that which takes wing, fading into the sky Can you feel its flutter as it passes by?  Must there always be a show before you know  we are here?  We are but an infinitesimal pulse within the heartbeat of Existence. Minuscule.. If the Universe should tread upon your back, would you not feel the pain? Nature mourns her losses and quietly rejoices in her accomplishments while humankind never has enough,  never does enough, never is  enough to be content. I am the busy bee that works to live Often hanging on to my sanity by a thread while the world around me is hurtling towards destruction. She watches it all silently, faithfully turning on her light at day’s end.  Do we appreciate the constant reliability of all that contributes to the whole, that creates the pulse, the heartbeat of life?  I am brillia