Thursday, February 8, 2018

Flesh On the Bone


The cold morning wind finds its way under my jacket. It floods in between the teeth of the zipper, the open end of the cuff. I shiver but like the touch of morning. She is not always kind. But always honest. She is having her way with my reluctance to face the hard facts of the day. She tells me to wake up, to taste possibility on the brisk air. Such a small imagination she says. You have no idea what you have she says. I know I say. It's just that... What? she says. Just what? Excuses. That's what you bring into this fresh, open, treasure of time? I don't know why I waste my time she says. You are right I say. I'm working at getting over bad habits I say. It's not about what you want anymore she says. It's about what is needed she says. You thought it would be easy. That was your other mistake. This is where the measure is taken she says. When you have no more to give but give anyway she says. That's the way you build what lasts. You have what you need to build a body of joy. When you move beyond what you thought possible you will begin to understand.

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