I found this in a notebook as I was doing some spring cleaning...I don't think I published it anywhere. If I have forgive me...we're not sleeping much around these parts.
My arms are so full, yet they're still empty.
In this bittersweet symphony the movement is beautiful but feels incomplete. Like an instrument is missing or is slightly out of tune, a little flat. Nothing that takes away the beauty of the music, just something that acknowledges it's imperfection.
To a casual listener the imperfection isn't audible they just hear the symphony and they think it is beautiful.
I know it's flat.
I also know it wouldn't exist without these missing pieces. We never would have arrived here without traveling through there. It's a never ending entwined spiral of joy and pain.
Each holding the other up. Making each other, the music, possible, allowing each other to exist.