Until the End of Time

I'm fucking moving home.  

I went away from Los Angeles because my heart told me to.  To my utter dismay, my heart pointed me in the direction of Las Vegas.  I drove, kind of blindly, just listening... listening... and it was perfect.  

Vegas was perfect.  Every encounter I've had, has been righter than right.  The wind has blown a calm at my heart and elegantly... gently... dusted out crevasses.  Blown free bits of debris that were clogging the spaces that needed flow.  

The desert is quiet.  The desert is still.  I has been home to my needs and I feel Divinely blessed for the opportunity.  And for the strength and fortitude to get in my car and drive it here, to a place I thought I'd never see the inside of, again.

And then I visited... Los Angeles...  And it felt alive.  And it felt like crashing waves of hope and crackling, buzzing energy.  New blooms and the spark of possibility.  Ready... set... GO!  I didn't fucking expect it...  So I pack, get behind my wheel and point in a new direction now.  Southbound baby... southbound...