When I stumble upon these sorts of things, they don't read like the words around them. They leap, dance, dart from the page. They taste different.
Why is language often such a hindrance when trying to describe something real??
I let a patch of truth develop.I feel these words viscerally. Usually when this happens, I stop, dumbfounded, and then read them again several times in quick succession. This is followed by me pounding the arms of whatever chair I happen to be sitting on and then racing for the nearest sharpie, which I use to write the words on my body. I don't know why this is my reaction. It rises unbidden and takes me whole. I let myself go with it to see where I will be swept.
I went to this magical website today. It's about silver hair and women. It gives me hope for humankind. That is where I was found today. I intend to do a little yoga now, letting this phrase sink into my body. Thinking, thinking, and breathing them in.
I let a patch of truth develop.