My brother and his wife are visiting from San Francisco presently. They do inner-city missions there. It is very comforting to have them around.
On to tonight's topic: Darkness. The word itself is loaded with associations. For me, at least. I was sitting on the front porch smoking as the sun was setting tonight and I was watching the trees. When light fades, everything loses definition. The leaves of the trees lost their depth. The trunks and the land below them began to bleed into one solid.
It is here, figuratively, that I sometimes wish to be. To have no distinction. To simply become
Darkness is stillness. Stillness is serene. To be hidden, to be anonymous, to give and take nothing.
There is always hope; and this word, this idea I scream over and over again because this - this is how I stay here. This is the straw I cling to amidst the raging rivers of insanity. Those who gave in to the river, who stopped clutching the straw and sank, they stand on the shore opposite me and they beckon.
