The past is still ahead of us.
Light always gets there first.
You can only start
from where you stand.
The rest arrives
slowly,
in the shape you’ve been waiting to remember.
Tag: writing
Energy does not lie.
The work changes when I show up fully.
It stops needing my explanation—
but I still need the moment it meets someone.
Force without depth is only noise.
Anyone can scream.
The real question is what you’re saying.
In Passing
Say it began with —
trucks and truck stops,
a gap in a fence hedge
where someone slipped through.
Vans. Garages.
My spirit raised
in a hilltop haze
to ease — oh, not then.
And then,
a lovely fluid hand.
Everything is shaky except for the minerals.
between one heartbeat and the next
we almost catch it,
the thing that passes,
the soul of compassion
that only discernment can hold.
In every corridor, the past waits patiently.
Nothing moves, yet everything continues.
Light is the only thing still trying to leave.