It's been too long since I've written. It's not for lack of reflection. It's for lack of reflection on that reflection. I think every person reflects. To reflect. To take in and give back. It's must be impossible not to do so in some regard. But to reflect upon reflection allows for a bouncing of light internally, an amplification of a small source, sometimes obscured by that which reflects it, but powerful when released.
I miss writing. I miss it in my footsteps, in my hurried sleep where I awaken to reminders of putting stickers on my students' fingerboards and strategize for solutions to problems, problems, problems. There is an endless list of things that must be put together, must be organized. We are people trying to be more than what we are. Growth is endless.
Growth upwards and sideways and in between. A conniving growth, yet one that is not vacant of love. But where is it? We are clinging to the air.
No comments:
Post a Comment