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.