it was yesterday and she was alone again. and then that day became this day and this day until all the days were gone. one sentence, one unit of measurement. one crash course in hurt. there were things, of course. things of great beauty. like the trees, leaves so green that her eyes burned. or the sky, so blue that it made her soul cry.
little things, big things, no big deal things. everything all at once and then nothing things.
isn’t that the way it is? isn’t this the way that is? the learning.
until we come out from under the days into the nothing, into the blue sky, into ourselves.
©littlebrownbutterfly