Rhythms of repetition circle our days. The sink full of dishes, empty only moments ago. The elusive laundry basket of holding transforms full to empty to full again. Spherical embroidery of life winks in the corner of our eye.
The moon overhead. Buttons. Cylinder heads. Plant pots. Time. Love. Loathing. Radio knobs. Birch logs.
Amid the chaos, random rhythms become smooth at the edges. Repetition folding in on itself till the beginning and ending collide.
Unable to find where we begin or where the other end might be, we continue doing the dishes. Washing the laundry. We take round things apart to put them back together again. And we watch the moon wax and wane with mysterious delight.
In the midst of this plenty many are in want. For peace. For quiet skies absent of artillery. Unshattered homes snug inside warm beds. A gleeful breath resolute and fearless. For want of an unbroken heart.
When the wrapping paper lay in shreds and the twinkling lights are packed tightly in their boxes, may we share our plenty in the days ahead with those in want.
Unable to find where we begin or where the other end might be, we continue doing the dishes. Washing the laundry. We take round things apart to put them back together again. And we watch the moon wax and wane with mysterious delight.
In the midst of this plenty many are in want. For peace. For quiet skies absent of artillery. Unshattered homes snug inside warm beds. A gleeful breath resolute and fearless. For want of an unbroken heart.
When the wrapping paper lay in shreds and the twinkling lights are packed tightly in their boxes, may we share our plenty in the days ahead with those in want.
Unswayed by the season.
Written by Julia Mist D'June ~ December 2024
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My the holiday season be joyful and filled with thoughtful intentions.
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