My plans are ice sculptures. Beautiful to behold and full of magic. Then they melt but their promise does not. They dissemble with a ripple that wobbles it’s way slowly and surely to all the corners of infinity, touching every possibility along the way.
That way I cease to put energy into worry about the plan. The plan is planned so now let go. Make the next plan. Then let go. If your plan is fashioned in concrete then it’s not a plan. It’s already a thing.
Plan unfolds in time
like the ever surprise of Spring-
submmission for Haibun Monday at dVerse