There
are so many cracks in this universe. Skin as delicate as a bone china cup, it
only takes one misplaced sip to split the flesh of it. A breach in the surface
of existence where clumsy fingers fumble for a bandage that will unsuccessfully
plug the damage leaking from the rip.
Fissures run like fault lines, or like the wrinkles on
my grandmother’s worn hands. The creases of my own hands, perhaps. A map that
marks disruptions, vulnerability. Places on this earth where the veil between
this and other is as easy to break as a spider’s morning web.
How much destruction there is, both accidental and
with intent. We scar our bodies with needles and sharpened razor blades; we
inject our veins with alcohol that numbs almost all feeling. Over time, we
forget that there is more to our survival than the next deadline, the next pay
check, the next weekend.
We forget to look. Forget that our life comes with a
responsibility to live it. We fail to recall that where tears in the fabric of
our universe draw their breath, well…here lies the escape of our breath. A
calmness, a feeling of rightness, a sense of purpose and release. Here is a
delicate destruction where we are remade, born again in the split between our
world and something that is deeper than faith.
These unexpected intrusions of beauty breed hunger, a
desire to explore those unexplored spaces. Dark and shadowed as they may be,
there will always prove a way to illuminate the path for the darkness has
cracks, too. Its skin – our skin – the fault lines will eventually give way to
the pressure, splintering to reveal that which we all crave though cannot put a
name to.
When I’m with you…that’s when the light comes through.
