There’s a softness to it—
So fragile that it could disappear without warning.
Blink and it’s just a memory.
But now it glows bright,
Surrounding me with light and bursting through all my barricades,
Like a cannonball to the chest,
Bending my body around it until it becomes my center.
A hard center that radiates a secure strength,
Sure it will never waiver or wander.
The thought of the light dimming rips me in half.
How could something so pure be so finite?
Like sand quietly falling through the bulbs of an hourglass,
Each a transient moment I wish I could savor.
Gently collecting them in my hands until they suddenly overflow,
Frantic fingers grasp to save each slipping grain.
Moments becoming memories.
A soft touch brushes my leg, sleeping ignorant of my turmoil.
Each tired sigh in the night calms my noisy qualms.
Still in this moment,
This living, breathing moment,
I am reminded the light still shines upon me.
Even with eyes lost on a distant horizon,
Distracted by dark, unknowing shapes ahead,
This light enveloping my whole existence,
I close my eyes, appreciate the rhythm against my skin.
Soft, delicate, fleeting rhythms.
Her full heart beating.
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