Sunday, as the dawn (and mind) awakens

Sunday 5:42 am

Darkness broken only by the single lamp over my makeshift work space, and by the laptop screen

It's never quite enough light to awaken me completely, but enough to allow me to be.

When there seems to be little to say, I know it is only the shyness of my muse, my genius, my Spirit

So, I don't worry about that part, the part where there seems to be nothing worth saying.



It is all worth saying, and only those to whom you say it may judge it.

There's a fallacy in there somewhere, and I hope you will tell me where it sits

Because of my need to do this, my urge which I cannot ignore to scribble down the thoughts as they wander past my vantage point on the river, past the little turn flowing by my spot, I keep doing this...I keep jotting.

Sunday 5:46 am

The single iota of consciousness is enough to disperse an infinite chaos, yet not enough to explain idiotic acts I perform, the moments when stupidity stands at the top of the hill, chanting the victory verse again and again.

Sunday 6:02 am

It is a challenge to accept my fallibility, to keep in perspective my successes, to own my mistakes while balancing them with the decisions and energy poured into what proved to be so beneficial.

Sunday 6:06 am

Finally, some light through the window...meager, but I have faith it will grow stronger quickly. It's hope, isn't it? It is hope which we hold in the darkness, the last remaining flicker or thread which encourages us forward as we stumble and bump shins into coffee tables in the darkness. Hope provides the motivation when all else fails because hope requires no evidence whatsoever. It is oblivious, in, fact, to the evidence at hand.

Hope says, "Ignore that ogre! He cannot hurt you, for I stand by you!" even as Hope knows it is persistent, but not actually strong. You see, Hope has hope. No greater endorsement could exist than this.