I feel a very unusual sensation—if it is not indigestion, I think it must be gratitude. (Benjamin Disraeli)
Darkness.
Because the electricity is out again. And I am accustomed to flipping a switch and accepting light. As my own right. Without any awareness of entitlement.
Darkness.
It can be a gift or a curse. Deepened colors reveal dimension in a painting. Shade provides relief from the bright sun. Or darkness can mean hatred without reason, an ignorance of color or shade.
Darkness
can be found in a moment or it can be stuck inside a locked mental space. It can be a fear, based on the past, or a fear, set on immediate danger.
Light.
The power has returned. Mechanical clocks flash and beg to be reset. They remember this moment and begin from here. A fresh place in local time.
Light.
Who do I know who needs a simple touch? Power. Start. With a word. Gratitude for who that person is. Now.
Light
joins with power. Hospitals heal patients. People can survive and thrive. A new day. And a new day in this simple, small house where two septuagenarians celebrate the gift of another day.
terrypetersen 