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And while it’s true
that knowledge of self
is required before
you can love,
truly love,
you must also have a
healthy faith in the unknown,
an appreciation for the wind
that blows from you know
not where, that stirs
the sea and leads it
to strange shores where
you may never see the sky
in the blue that used to
be so familiar you thought
it universal.

The silences, as much a part
of the music you so love
as the notes, as needful
of mastery, of audience,
the truths yet to be
discovered, with which
a spirit in harmony with
its own unfolding story
needs no prior encounter
to call itself prepared
to form a lasting covenant,
the setting of a movie
that provides more
than a backdrop,
more than a vessel
for things to happen in,
but acts as a character
of sorts in the plot,
with caprices and charms
and can, in turns
be friend, then foe,
then a mere face in the crowd
you pass somewhere
in busy downtown,

all the roads you’ve never walked,
all the winters that didn’t fall,
the stones you left unturned,
the what ifs and changes of heart,
and the voices of chance
both listened to and defied,

are in your hands,
pieces of the same puzzle.
And the knowing of self
breathes in the pauses where
more beauty is possible.
Embracing the not knowing
is part of it.
So is kissing your fears.
So is trusting the part
of you that’s been wrong
so many times before.

“Ruche Bridal Fall”
by photographer Stephanie Williams


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