the beauty of it

 

You thought you were free, but you were only just scraping the surface.

 

It’s like someone just came in and took the lid right off. And you’re squirming, and turning, and spinning, and burning…

 

…in the light.

 

{Blinded by the light, she said}.

 

And that’s the beauty of it. It’s raw and real and bloody and still… not over.

 

Where once you saw darkness, light is now. It’s like an exposé, of all your yesterdays. It’s like your vulnerability just sprawled itself across every mistake you ever made… {but no one’s watching/no one even saw your heart break}… You thought it was made of stone, or broken bone, but not only is it still beating, it’s ready to go home.

 

That’s the beauty of it. It’s raw and real and bloody and still… not over.

 

Because every new beginning is another beginnings end…

 

And every promise you broke and buried, is either forgiven or on the mend.

 

The words here don’t matter. What’s real just comes in waves. Drowning in connection. Like a mockery of all the things you thought you made.

 

And the layers peel back, each one at a time. Suddenly you’re down to the core of it, and you’ve had a taste of what you’re about to find.

 

As each door slams open wide, you gain momentum and you start to glide.

 

There’s love here. It’s cutting through things that were so set. It’s tearing at the edges of yesterday, and they’re flapping in the wind. Pieces are peeling off, breaking apart and falling to the ground, falling behind…

 

But you don’t look there.

 

And there’s light here. It’s spilling into old spaces, dark corners, shady places… and suddenly they are new.

 

It’s undoing everything you’ve ever done. It’s making the whole point of this something so real your first instinct is to run.

 

And you’re sweating, and your heart is racing. Your eyes are wide, from all the fear you’re facing. And your mind is spinning, your body is numb, and you’re floating right on past that first instinct you had to run.

And you’re afraid. You’re so afraid. But you stay anyway.

 

And that’s the beauty of it.

It’s raw and real and bloody and still… not over.

 

Far, far from over… it’s only just begun…