There are pieces of me that remain hidden. Exposed to the light they would burn too quickly and ignite into something that would create too much rapid fire, and the dissolution of far too much. To keep this within is painful to me. But at the same time I know that it is necessary.
I have had and do hold such grief. All of this loss must surely be written across my bones. But so must all the endless hope. The hope that doesn’t exist until I put my attention upon it. Nothing exists until I create it. It’s a known spiritual truth, but… the mind grasps things in layers. And it is so clear to in times like this… times of sad triumph. And I think, maybe I chose a sad life so that I could experience all that is beautiful in it. …No, I know I did.
All of the beauty
Marred across my skin
Carried deep within
I drink from chalice fire
And lose breath
But in the dark of it all
There is a soft sound
That continues to call
From beneath the ground
From the fire to ash
And from the ash to life
I become the only kind of freedom
I can recognise
I am what the Earth was before she came
A pattern too endless to beheld a name
~ Rebecca Elizabeth Anne
Maybe your light is a seed and the darkness the dirt.
In spite of the uneven odds, beauty lifts from the Earth.