old habits lay dead and dying at my feet,
stung to death by the question: “from where did that response spring?” and the rational answer that follows, that dissolves any hint of reactionary justice i may take against myself.
for i surrender. into the darkness i peer less terrified, less volcanic and ashen.
not-knowing has been replaced with sheer clarity like bright morning sun after a moonless night. i cannot be moved to dig my own grave. there is light here. crackling the surface of a new beginning.
and i am present, and i am open, and i am willing.
for surely this is the stuff of miracles.
light, love, beauty, and peace,