A spark of life, a flash of light from flint and metal. Patience, work, determination. Patience, waiting for the straw to catch. Work, over and over and over again in repetitious moves based on experience and knowledge. Determination, because there is a goal. The fire is not for merely light to see but warmth to breathe as well. Necessary, to stop and try and try and try before you can go on. A glimpse of cold, unmoving in its place moves the seer.
I think it’s caught. I need a breeze to fan the little flame.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Man, that’s some kicked up self-talk. If it works for you, let me know. I could use some electified mo-jo.
Well it was starting to, then my husband came home with the bad news of being laid off. (Hate these big corporations and even the job shops that work for them now.)
Actually, this kind of moved me to get some stuff done in the frameshop and around the house because I felt badly for him and it gave me something to focus upon.