to receive death.

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the light on my face feels dim and subtle. my eyes want to hide, recoil in November’s solemn skies, while all listens to life in stillness, receiving death, receiving the brokenness of slowly fading into nothingness.

it is the first autumn to truly fathom what death truly  is deep in soulful lights. to receive the glory of non-doing, of resting, of nothingness— the gift in this, the brokenness, the poverty, the ample need.


in time, spring. but now, it is this unknowing death. this forgetfulness. this humble fading soulfulness. it is okay. it is receiving. 


still, all I see is You, and all I see here is my heart melting into yours, not knowing where to go. here I learn being, as it is, as it always was.

going with grace in an inscrutable world.

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