In a futile attempt to erase our past, we deprive the community of our healing gift. If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others. ― Brennan Manning
Joy is birthed on the bloodied edge of sorrow's scythe; for death is life's only sine qua non and darkness its sole necessity.
Certitude is the lullaby lie we tell ourselves when things go bump in the night.
She is a child of the night. She is sceadugenga.
I slip into the murk of tumbled, troubled minds Encased within the womb of Darkness’ chilling hands My eyes are hazed, enclouded by confusing fogs My arms lie limp along my frozen frame Dirtied, blackened snow impedes my quaking legs Mischieved, unseen phalanges play my heart - arrhythmic tunes Filtered thoughts assault my inner sight, …