On the Beauty of Beginning Again

I thought
I would live
by surrendering myself to a greater current.

Fulfilling the roles given to me,
and at times,
finding unexpected moments of quiet joy within them.

Living each day in this way,
and when I finally reached the end,
I believed I would cherish
what remained, with all I had.

That, too,
must have been a certain kind of beauty.

I began again.

To put it in ordinary words,
I am now walking in the dark.

Having only just begun,
I search for a source of light.

The darkness
is not suffering.

The light that filters through,
the wind that moves past,
everything that arrives within the stillness
is quietly beautiful.

Before long,
within a gentle darkness,
I come upon a crossroads.

What grounds me
is who I once was.

From the past I have built,
a faint light is released,
and I follow it.

To begin again
is not to erase what has been.

The traces of my steps
have never ceased.

And then again,
a soft light, a gentle wind
bring me a sense of quiet ease.

I run through it.

I come to a stop.

Here and now—
it is profoundly, quietly beautiful.