return of the light
Winter solstice is come and gone, and yesterday was a minute longer than the day before. Not a moment too soon. Events conspired to make this the sucker-punch winter, and lack of light hasn’t been helping any. –.– I love Boston for its seasons, not least because it reminds me that everything has a limit. The night is on its way out; it too will pass. Things I want to spend most of my time on – home, work, food and other arts, my Buddhist studies, hopefully further research on Roland – will settle, become more defined. Upheaval will give way to silent blue and yellow sunrise again and again. Rain droplets on my window don’t occlude the life-giving star, about the only thing I worship steadfastly these days. –.– It’s so quiet in the early morning. Just the rain falling. Or maybe the rain’s in my head.