How should I live?
How should I spend the hours between waking and dreaming and waking again? What will all this mean in the end when I’ve given back my one last living breath?
Who should I love? Who should I trust to hold this fierce,
fragile heart of mine? Who do I invite into my bed, to lie next to me,
to gather dreams under moonlight?
Who is willing to see my scars, to show me theirs,
and to heal,
one kind act
at a time?
What do I believe? What God
do I address my prayers to? What path do I walk,
step by step through the dark, until it leads me at long last into the light?
I know you’ve asked these questions too. I
know you’ve held them in your hands and set them free into the wind, hoping they’d come
back to you someday.
When the wind returned my questions to me, the instructions were clear:
silent and open, for those mysterious
depths within me to speak.
as if all
depended on my listening.
All you must know in this world is how to feel
what you feel in the quiet
of your bones
and to never
when your soul
has told you true.