why do we like some places more than others?
maybe the people in those places
are letting the Light through
don’t be a door,
be a window
be strong enough to keep yourself transparent and let the Light filter through you
keep yourself clean and let it pass through
like through a prism, making every colour appear when we see you
when light falls on you,
I see you
and I infer light
light illuminates and
light disappears while doing so
my heart is
like a never-ending tissue box
it always has something left to give.
and be on your way.
life is a never ending project with ever-expanding scope
always a scuff mark here, peeling paint there
socks that need folding, a too-old sofa set
we can’t ever really start from scratch
we stand on the shoulders of everyone who came before,
always indebted, but never able to fully pay
always moving forward, but never fully in control
there is something interesting and maddening and liberating about planning for something, then relinquishing nearly all control when it comes time for execution
but it’s an art we should probably be thankful to be learning
how rich are our lives going to be, an unfinished project, being articulated as we build over and under each other
it’s okay with me if someone else brings their supplies and joins up wherever, in the middle
Love has made me
and love has effaced
the me that was made,
Leaving behind only that
which can understand
that there is deep meaning in being where one finds themselves
And deeper meaning in being present
to see the light
of a thousand stars twinkling behind a veil of cloud
in the early hours of the night.
If someone gave you a flame
in an otherwise dark world,
what would you do with it?
Would you keep it safe, hidden from others,
taking it out only from time to time?
I say, use it to light your way
to the desperate wicks of others
and give them hope.
The flame can go on forever but not on your wick alone.
some days i am just
a pair of large eyes
gliding through the doorways of my house
waiting for my body to catch up