My thoughts percolate, germinate, grow, bloom, play.

There are remnants of old conversations and seedlings of the new ones. There are so many: dancing, swirling to an unseen choreographer’s hand and an inaudible melody. They come together and pull apart, locked in a Viennese waltz of a sorts, until one takes center stage…

So many thoughts: Inspired by love, stained by pain, scuffed by doubt; informed by past successes and failures; refined and in the rough–all welcome and appreciated. Some are so deeply private that I dare not articulate them to even myself. Those exist on a visceral plane, in the realm of somatic experiences. Other thoughts, more audience-friendly, ready and longing to be shared with others. And the many of the “I hope I don’t talk in my sleep” variety… not ready to share with the one on the pillow next to me.

But I have nothing to fear. All is revealed in due time.