all you do in 27 years is accumulate time, but in 30 hours you could really grow up.

under the birthing and dying of one brief sun you could learn very quickly the truth about your oldest friends- pain, loss, pride. you could turn to look for the first time into the eyes of your oldest demon and find that you can return the growl and steady that stare.

in our efforts to soften reality’s leery mien it’s equally easy to conjure absolutes as it is to shepherd things into the grey. nobody knows which is the least evil of the two; there will be time enough to find out.

fear can keep you from dying, but it will also keep you from living. fear can keep you from asking the second question. fear can smother the clarion song you need to find the right way home.

in the end it is not the meanest wolf who survives the harshest winter, but the wolf who understands when to feast and to fast, who when wounded, knows to retreat with dignity and yet not surrender the battle, who is adaptable to the most inhospitable of climates, whose comfort comes from the pack at its back.

hold your head above the horizon of your troubles and keep putting one foot in front of the other. who knows, really, who knows? nothing is certain except the music in your ears and the smell of newness ahead.

—-

silly rabbit
wild hearts cannot break
they take only what they need, and nothing more
planting nothing in the soft sediments of expectation
kicking up their heels in the joy of the accidental, in the face of relentless advance
hearts that have no wish to die old
but want to run to heaven laughing, yelling, holding deep brown roses in their hands

- B.R.

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