image from google
Dust off this tattered old soul, and let it swoop one more time around the ceiling, reaching for those elusive words that catch in the dim corners. What can I do with the lives around me, all falling into crisis, but ride the inner tide of peace, dig my roots down deep along the river's edge, the better to remain steady for them when they reach out from the rushing current, in passing, nearly drowned, to grab my branches. The setting sun forms refracted rays through the forest, and paints the river silver, as day's end turns golden everything not in shadow. Let me bring you soft white cotton to dry your tear-streaked cheeks. Let me assure you that this calamity, too, will pass, and you will, one day, laugh in the sunshine again.
Kerry's intriguing prompt at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads is Running With the Brush: to write a Zhuihitsu,(it sounds like a sneeze!)- a sort of prose poem from Japan. She mentioned the Kamakura period zuihitsu is rooted in Buddhist thought, containing the author's musings on the impermanence of the material world, and contains the feeling of randomness without being random. Well, this appealed to me, so I gave it a whirl.