The Light Within

 

What's in an age?
A repertoire of years perhaps?

Years strung together like beads on a string.
Some short, others long.

I see a short string.
There are only three beads.
"So few", I think, but "Oh the possibilities".
Fresh and new with the promise of years to come.
This string looks forward.

I see a long string, a myriad of beads.
A long train winding.
A strand rich in hues and textures.
The wealth of each bead in wisdom and experience.
Many beads yet to gather, and the welcome weight of those held fast.

~

What's in a year?
A possibility lived perhaps?
A hundred dawns.
A hundred sunsets.

~  

What is a person?
Merely a body with an age?
Surely not.

~ 

What of the soul?
That which transcends both body and time.

Deep inside, a bright light burns.

The light is timeless.
Time cannot ravage the light.
Dreams both realized and abandoned cannot tarnish the light.

The lights' name is Freedom.
Time cannot bind it.
The body cannot chain it.

As a child, we embraced the light, surrendered to it.
We were the light.
The very young don't bury the light, they don't measure the light, they live it.

Close your eyes and remember the light.
The marsh stretches out before you.
Possibilities are endless.
Marsh mud between your toes, you reach the edge of the creek.
No thought, no hesitation, you jump.
One leg stretched out in front, you glide through the air.
One brief but endless moment.
Suspended.
Wind on your face, arms outstretched, and the salty tang of the marsh in your nose.

This is freedom, the essence of the light within.


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