Trust

Trust. Trust. Trust that what feels broken
still holds the scattered light

Trust. Trust. Trust in the darkness that the
unknown, the unseen, is forming

Trust. Trust. Trust that time is a construct we
have created to invite in suffering

Trust. Trust. Trust that all that exists is openness,
expansiveness

There once was a woman,
and I cried at her feet.
And she whispered trust.
I melted.

I became the holy rivers flowing out of me
I became the darkness and the light
I became the wild and the tame,
the known and the unseen
I became the construct and the pliable possibility

One day, perhaps, the word will become
etched forever upon my skin
No matter, for they have always been etched upon my soul