The first day of the last month.
Rinse and repeat. A continued
descent toward the nadir of
darkness — the moment when
light returns, slowly. Asymptotic.
We never know when the final
step will occur. It’s a threshold —
always a threshold. How can one
put words to the great Mystery?
So many try. But watch: cells
divide; breath flows; light energizes;
the angels floating above the grass
whisper: grow. grow. Perhaps this
month we’ll feel that mystery
working in a way that eases the
pressure of modern living. No
matter what, the light will come.