I remember the spirited dance from all of those years ago, without knowing a damn thing about why I was here or there in the first place, less a choice and more fate. They "know" and "knew" me in the basic way we think on it, but their spirits know me well enough to conclude that I was stumbling and tumbling, not unlike a clown. I landed on my feet only after I crashed my head, so my feet landed in agony and not in the center of Love where I belonged... © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime
(The Weaver's Song)