it is called a breaking point because
every cell, every fiber of one’s being
has been gripping so tightly onto
the thread of what it knows to be true.
and when that thread snaps,
the entirety of the person becomes unraveled
in an instant.
a thread that sewed one together over many years:
every moment of experience, a stitch
every belief about oneself, a knot.
its breaking point tears apart the very fabric of one’s identity.
and what, at first, feels unfamiliar & uncomfortable,
is only a return to the very beginning of oneself;
the unentangled person.

i like to believe each soul is its own special color
toned by our own unique palette of experiences
and tinted through the unique medley of our hearts.
some colors very similar, most very different, and no two exactly the same.
every color existing as innate necessity within the rainbow of humanity.

and maybe love is much simpler than we make it out to be.
maybe it’s not found in the doing, in the pursuing, in the trying.
instead,
maybe love is found in the resting place that is presence.
maybe love is found in the silence that is a listening ear.
maybe love is found in the stillness that is humble acceptance.
maybe love is just..
as you are.

Like the last spark from dying embers
Leaving her bed of ashes
Floating up into the dark sky
A droplet of fire
Carried by the currents of wind
Into her next blazing beginning