tmbt: light from your faces
Is it the speed of light? Is that how fast the mind moves? And the heart?
Is it the lack of reflection that sends your black eyes towards me, loving and bright in their sweet abyss. A push off of sun that says hello from your sweet green hazel that tells me indeed it is you again? Is it the speed of light, this velocity of recognition that reminds my heart of home, that home is here, that home awaits, too. That home is only a light-moment away no matter where I stand?
I love you.
I have love you for so long, heart neither too light nor too tortured. Too bright nor too sunken in the caves of itself… I think. One can never, or maybe it is just me that can never, be too sure of any of it. Of how we felt for sure, of how bad or wonderful things were. The speed of light with which the memories flash us back is the same speed with which they nudge into each other, nudge each other over… into a darker shade of sad or wetter touch of glistening. One, or maybe it is just me, can never be too sure when the light is moving so very fast.
Same goes for now. And for hopes that rickashe off the walls of this room, and your face. And your face, too. And so many many faces streaming by, stopping in surprised smile, waiting in the wings for more, never even noticing, or just not noticing enough to interrupt its own light sources. Where are you? Where have you been? Where has all the dancing particle puddle of muddy bliss led?
Here. Wherever here is, lost and found in the open intelligence that is a clear, sweet, real, truly true comprehension of the light. The light from your faces. The most beautiful sweet light from your faces.
Photo credit unknown.