We don’t adopt hate from our ancestors, we learn love from our children.
Last night, I fell all the way into myself
and realized that I am only a mirage
in the desert of somebody else’s soul.
There will always be somewhere you’ve never been.
I’ve said this many times over the past year: When I look around, I see no one who is content. While I do believe this, perhaps it would be better to focus on people who are fighting for contentment. People who are trying for peace. Maybe it is not reaching complete fulfillment, but attempting everyday to get there.
Tall trees hold the suspended light
Dark branches, brown and bending
Who knew light could be so heavy?
That light could be bound in a glass jar?
With light, there is always shadow
Sometimes I forget that
Is the light surrounded by it?
Or is the light where the shadow cannot exist?
* * * *
A grove of trees hold all the suspended lights. The branches are dark brown against it all and bend trying to support the added weight, which they do with no small amount of grace. I never knew light could be so heavy to pull down the branches of a hundred year old oak tree. I never thought about what it means to bottle it up like that – like water.
I’m noticing again that light always comes with shadow. Sometimes I forget that. It would be cliche to mention at this point things like right and wrong and good and evil – it’s not like that. The night is no more sinister than the day, we made that up to keep children from climbing out of their beds.
The light steps into the shadow and forces it to bend like the branches – pushing it away from itself. This is also an issue of cause and effect. The light came first so, the dark knows something of honor.