It’s not every day you wake up to find the world around you burned to the ground while you were sleeping. Loved ones passed. Nothing lasts. It was too much to ask.
And yet here we remain… unanswered.
Our voice in the darkest night… unanswered.
Our screams out on a hill in the wind… unanswered.
The promise of a new day just isn’t out there.
Circle the earth six times,
You won’t find it on the seventh either.
It’s not hiding behind some sage mountain peak.
It’s not ordained in the words of the wise.
It’s not contained in the wisdom of fools.
It doesn’t dwell in the houses of the holy.
It’s not the circumference,
It’s the center.
It’s within us.
It’s the breath in our lungs .
It’s what fills our empty cups.
It’s the morning coffee that hasn’t yet been ground.
It’s our cat that ate the rat and left its remains on our doorstep.
It’s our car that doesn’t run.
It’s the leak in the roof.
It’s the drip drip drip.
It’s our kids that think we speak like a leaking faucet.
It’s our wives that wonder when we’ll get around to it.
It’s the creak in our bones as we grind them into movement.
If it weren’t for those things that are still to be done, these bones would grind back to dust and be gone.
Each new morning brings its own beautiful troubles that wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for those that call them our own. As long as we are here, we are still here.
New Every Morning.