And so, we went on, seeking shelter, seeking rest. We were mostly moved by wants––fears too, naturally. We guided our rafts between dangers and needs until the distinctions between shores began to blur.
But sometimes in a quiet hour, there would come a recognition. The want had no end, did it? It was as vast as the sky we beheld at night, and just as impossible to see. It was here and it was forever out of reach. There was nothing to do but move toward it, singing the testimonies of our weaving hearts.
Later, another recognition: nothing survives, does it? No single creature. And yet, we sensed this constant drum at the center of each gathering. Only this luminous moment––yes, even of our death––has any life. We gathered to witness and were moved to move again.
8 thoughts on “The Commuters”
Trapped in between the two, awash in the movement of the moment, life flows.
Love and light to you, Amaya!
The want had no end. Love the sound of that, and the eternal yearning, it seems. Nice piece for the day Stacey. Thank you!
Wishing you a beautiful day, Bill!
“Love!” If there was a heart button to click I’d click it. Ha ha
I love the sentiment!
Thank you for this. : )
You’re welcome 😊