the light will win 

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art: here

Inescapable hours of darkness are met with a resolve to raise light up and across each essential piece of the whole. To illuminate the cracked parts of our hearts and our lands with the warmth of breathe and the spry organ of life that is at once tangible and transitory.

We are an ancient miracle. And we have moulded through these familiar events time and time again. We have found ourselves staring at repressed shadows hiding out beyond our attentive perceptions. Wondering where what was once so commonplace has departed to? Love, our oldest confidante, yes you are here. But why are you not everywhere?

Everything happening now is peculiar. A symptom of decisions in history. Conversations between erudite sects, their souls pillaged by avariciousness. Ventures, hallucinations, deviations. Left unbridled because we had to arrive right here. To the place where the fields are crying with pain, for they no longer feel the dew and wish the sun would not stare so feverishly. The tractor with its gritted, alloy teeth bares its vicious ivories and plunges a jagged tooth into our mother. Over and over again. And we feed on the products of these misdeeds. We are accomplices in this tragedy.

Still, in the modern narrative we hold the pen and a delicately carved replicable key. Unlocking our chains and dismantling the collective suffering. Perched upon the horn of a grand passage, rotating our spirits towards the Earth. We gaze into an inevitable unfolding that begs us to remember who we are. What we belong to. All-mighty life and love- its fuel. An endless power spanning across the venerable forests and our human dreams. Keep focused on the light, appreciate the dark, but do not let it win.

Blessings on this watery full moon.

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