Sometimes there are moments where what seemed to be real and felt like a bubble tight on your skin splits at the edges and there is silver and fire and worlds in worlds underneath. And then it shifts back and you wonder if you were mistaken and smile a little at the possibility. But as it shows again you realize with a terrible lifting of a heavy shadow from your shoulders you didn’t realize was there that your intuition was right after all and there is so much more to know that could not be known all at once and it’s there to be seen little by little and to break into the everyday time after time after forgotten time.
And in that moment the tiniest thing like the veins of a leaf on a tree or a bug or a piece of glass zooms hugely in front of you and you laugh at it because it’s so strange. And you laugh at yourself because of the strangeness of existence. You walk outside and your eyes are opening and opening and opening again and the wind runs through you until you think you are flying and you remember how good and how big and how much beyond everything youknow life is. And how small you are.
And then you see a face and some eyes and a figure walking past and people are there, and how incredible they are. How broken into pieces but incredible and filled to bursting with potential to touch the sky and shake the heavens. And the eyes look into yours and you feel apart but near and you want to close the gap but you don’t know quite how but something inside you shifts nearer. And the waves from the realization of grace all over again but forgotten sweep through you as the Person you thought you had to hold together but let go of because he said to trust him is There and he is bigger and realer and more impossible than before. And for the first time you realize that you Like him and he is different that you expected and the best bits of all the things you love are all inside him and spilling out and into you and around you and out of you. And as it sweeps through you your eyes open and open and open again and even the pain is impossibly beautiful and though the selfishness is still there the Possibility is there too and there also is Hope.
Everything is in its normal place but all of the pieces are fit to explode any moment and you feel like you have been let in on the mostincredible secret that you might forget at any moment and probably will.
And it’s hard to write stories about your existence because the poetry is more real.
