“Light bulb ideas I thought held promise, fade away, yet this one stays bright.
I’ ve made it all, now what to do or undo with it.”

Is the end the beginning, or the beginning another end?…

How can we know…?

How can we know while being in the maze?…And being there,
where do you start other than in the very spot you stay?

Yet…

How did we end up here?

Is “here” another insidious “there”?…

What word to utter?…What step to take…?

Sometimes you can´t no longer stay still, but moving is no answer either,
as you might end up in the same spot from which you once proceeded…

Everything is the same and not the same.

So “to do” is no answer…- as little as “undo” is…

This fumbling around is so depleting…

But one thing I know:

As I write these words to you “I move”…even if I stand…

I reblog here this amazingly meaningful article by Toko-pa Turner.

“One of the most powerful dreams I was ever given was a visitation from my maternal Grandfather who came to me as an adult, twenty years after he died.

Like many ancestral dreams, it was singularly vivid and more lucid than everyday dreams.

I looked into the bright clarity of his eyes, felt the warmth and weight of his hand on my shoulder, and recognized the melody of his thick accent even though I was 7 years old when last I heard it.

A great stillness stretched around us as he looked at me tenderly and said, “I’m sorry for having given you my eyesight.”

Towards the end of her life, my Granny told my brother and I many stories she’d kept secret for a lifetime. She spoke of many unfathomable atrocities, and the near-death miracles that kept my Grandparents…