While waiting for the 7 Bus, I took a meditative moment. It emulated exactly what my writing feels like inside me, right now. There are many branches of ideas, some of them are broken; snapped in half without any possibility of further growth. But there are a few buds that are still alive. Some are just starting to catch the sun and feed off the light, growing in the direction of openness. Eventually, the stick will be a thick branch of life. Heavy with purpose.