I don’t fully understand how some moments can be so exquisite and others with a flip of a feather, the doors and windows of our psyche can feel the minute explosion of everything. It can be a swift descent and a spiral into something surreal. A movie where the reel of film goes ‘click-flip, click-flip,’ until a new reel is added. There’s a voice, “Mind the gap please.” Until life can proceed where a splice of time was lost and when we might even feel deceived. And yet, we hold onto the threads of something.
We follow the stardust of our beginning. We brush off the twigs of taunt, the fear of failure, the angst of anxiety, while holding a fractured lens of perception. We reach for books, and music, and the talk of people or the quiet cave of small. Eventually our film will smooth out and we will stand to find the ground and hold the walls once rebelling. The day returns to light and the night is an envelope with pinpricks in the parchment to behold the stars.
We settle into our breath and wipe our palms free of confusion to feel and listen to our heart. It’s there. The flutter of a gentle thump repeats: I am. We are. We are the individual threads of a connected symphony; and we each play a different symbolic instrument to enhance a growing, expanding, contracting world goal. One with multifaceted colors and shades and beliefs to feel and hear and see, an infinite equality for all.