The Gloaming


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There is a place where a calm and ancient magic exsists. It’s always with
me, tagging along in some obscure area of my mind. It allows me to find wonder in the not so wonderful and hope when all is lost. If my daily tasks and difficulties are made more obvious by the sun, then this quiet and sacred part of me can only be twilight. A sliver of time, and sadly, scarcely enough space for something so treasured and tender, it can only take residence in that tiny parcel of land directly between the sun and the moon. But it’s enough. Any other place wouldn’t be the same.
I can’t always find my way, the path is ever changing as the seasons and prone to thick overgrowth if not used often. Sometimes I think I give myself too much credit and in actuality I’m the one being found. But once I’m here I come to life. My senses are magnificent! I can see the shimmer of ten million lives and hear the music of the faery realms. The heady perfume of wildflowers is only eclipsed by the clear night dew that collects on my bare toes. I absorb it through my skin and in every drop of this powerful Earth elixir is a gift of love and gratitude for my little place, my tiny life, my family, my land, love, the summer, the moon, swimming, singing, laughing, grass between my toes, crying, Quinn’s hair in the morning, Caden’s freckle on his cheek, honeysuckle in bloom, books, lightning storms and finally….magic. It’s all magic, after all. When you’ve finally found The Gloaming, what else could it be?…

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