It seems we live life two ways--
in the doorway
where we were placed long ago.
We stay put.
We could lean toward the light.
We could collapse back into the dark from whence
we came.
I'd fancy myself somewhere in between but
you can't fight demons
from the sidelines and you can't feel
the warmth of the sun
from the moon.
Stay put and you might as well not be living at all.
So what do you do?
Rumi might know.
Mary urges him to take his time as he answers.
But God is the only one who showed them
and to discover that the roses are children talking
not to you or anyone really
just amongst themselves
just might be the answer.
The roses know themselves.
Do we? Do I?
Does anyone?
-k.p.
"4am thoughts" (not about you).
