A-Z part Y
'What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.'
An Emperor Dragonfly, tattooed on my shoulder, in flight, is always wings stretched, always having climbed from egg to grub to chrysalis to this leap of faith.
Grub form lingers in half-light, calls the shadows home. Much is learnt in these formative shades. Grub feels comfortable in this mud, in this formational half-light: feels safe being half-formed, being unlaunched.
This is the comfort zone of discomfort. If I hurt, if I am failed, I need not fear waiting for pain or failure to find me.
Life is not only harsh truths: not all truth need be harsh. Sunlight is no lie.
Grub at the base of the reed, looking up, hesitant: drawn.
What is it that I want then?
To live in this half-light, as most people do, but to leave a body of work that is the beautiful, truthful guide to living in economic vagary, though people might never read it?
To blossom in all ways and come to a life that fulfils its promise?
Always be vulnerable, always be powerful.
|This is not my shoulder, this is my old briefcase.|