pooling

No need to make it formal. No need to make it lofty. No need to make it dead. No need to run the life right out of the moment, encapsulating it in ledgers and accounts and something as treacherous as future anxieties. There’s really no need, actually. I’d rather kiss you sweetly and say good luck before you go. I’d rather prepare a meal and share it with you laughing. I’d rather drink the potent communion of this particular day with such sincerity that it makes me weep. I’d rather be a raving lunatic for the love of what we’ve been given to inhabit. Heart beating hard and sweaty all over. Smiling so big my face hurts. Something so clear and expansive about forgiveness. Something terrifying about acknowledging oneself. Tiny wheels on pavement finding there way to another life. This one actually. The one I’ve been making excuses about not living. The one I’ve been fretting over and tied up in knots about. There’s something quite lovely here, waiting among the heaviness and rapture. The clothes that lay there just so. A quiet witness to the meaning that is a few brushstrokes away from being revealed. Emerging from a tomb or living hell (whichever is more applicable) into abundance life. Maybe if I say it this way it will become a little less vague. A convergence of many streams that run to the ocean.