Friday, February 4, 2011
In The Heart
If I was to look at myself in the mirror, and try to discern what kind of person I really am, I'm not sure what I would conclude. I fear the darkness overcomes any beauty that I might possess, if indeed I possess any at all. I fear that all the things that once made me into the person I am were stolen, torn and scattered in the wind, and that I am left empty, a shell, ready to be filled again, but unsure of what things to pour into the new creation of myself.
But perchance, I would look, and I would find what I least expected; the universe spilling through me, ready to be touched, brought forth, and distributed into the world. Perhaps that is all I could hope for.