When I started this tiny blog I wanted a place to uplift to speak only those things that improve the world around me through the sharing. It did not, does not, matter if any of those words are ever read by another; just that they are out there, can be read, can offer a balance to all the ugly-meaningless-hurtful-selfish words that are dumped into the world on a daily basis.
In my desire to be
that voice I have strived to only write, to share, that which is uplifting and
positive as much as possible. Sadly that means I do not write often. As life
grows harder, grows complicated, becomes oppressive, my silence grows
equally. I realized that perhaps I don’t
have to be uplifting, I don’t have to
feel joy to write; I need only have
the desire to lift another from shadows.
I have somehow always
believed all things for a reason; I know that it can sound worn and trite but
it does not feel that way. I find that I keep trying to be brave: I keep failing
to be brave. I want to write, to share, to see light in the darkness. Yet I do
not write, I continue to close myself off, I do not turn lights on as the
shadows are easier on my eyes most days. Then I realize I am not the solution I
am just another tiny dusty brick on the brink of tottering of the edge of a
worn path. But an old cobblestone with cracks can better play host to a sudden
flower growth than a paved highway.
Perhaps wanting to
feel contentment, desiring to share radiance, failing to do so, and still
saying, “I am here if you need to cry, my shoulder is soft” is enough.
I am not joyous,
but I am hopeful.
I am quiet, but I
listen well.
I do not like
bright light, but the calm still shadow of the woods hold many wondrous secrets
to be explored.
I am lonesome and
sad, I am quiet and withdrawn, but I still believe in a better world. I believe
that the majority of humanity cares and will improve the world even if it is
one small step at a time. Every lock has a key it just takes a bit of time to locate in the jumble sometimes.
