Sparks are the beginning of fires, which warm, protect and guide, or maybe just give us something nice and spacey, a flickering flame upon which to levitate dreams.
Writing this, I guide myself. Reading it, you guide me, and perhaps yourself. We rely on each other. We move en masse, hobbling together through thickets, carrying what light we can find to see. Voices emerge, then recede.
Sparks of emotion can change your path. Sparks of ideas can light the universe. Sparks of distant stars give us dreams.
Listen, watch, trust, repeat. Sparks happen when you least expect.
Sparks can travel the speed of light through these wires, zapping you and moving on. What are sparks to you? Pass this spark on. Light a fire.
And please remember who was your flint. This flint sparked at Liz’s