Prague Escape

Wings of my mind, do, please, lift me. I am no longer Friday-exhausted, limping on the usual, the routine. I leave behind the disappointments, the frustrations, the physical fatigue and the mental desolation. Prague, to Prague. I am myself but more, myself but altered, myself but alight (aflight) in fantasies of Prague. Glittering rose city from the air, thick with snow and the soft reflected light of stones. Bridges over water, flowing rivers like my soul, released here in thought. My slow steps, my open OPEN eyes, this late afternoon winter draping itself in sunset's shawl. My street. My aloneness, my quiet mind, my tender seeking heart -- looking for me, this ME I imagine I could be here, in Prague. New language in my mouth and thoughts, new paths, new faces and conversations, new new new I ache for change, I ache to depart 'The Rut' for 'The Alive'. I think of Prague. I don't look any different, really, no fantasy makeovers for this face I've earned. I just want the flavor of possibility in my heart again, the ripple of the unknown versus all these foregone daily conclusions. And always I turn, my hand on an unfamiliar heavy door that forever opens to me, opens onto such a plain, unadorned sanctuary - of peace, of serene stone and inviting light, a nook to nourish these hardened places in me. I can stand at the window, still hands, heart breaking open in prayer or poem, amid a bliss of silence and promise.
I beg you, wings of my mind: Prague, to Prague -- let this dreary day rest behind, in reality, and together we, you and I, shall soar to the rose stone silent plain tender life-flavored dream of who else I could conceivably be. [all photographs Googled, not my own]