it was impossible to know
if it was the light filled world
that moved them to dance,
or their dance that moved the
world to
fill
with
light.

if i walked through the gate,
would i find the quiet place?
would i find the place where all things make sense?
the place where i could understand why things are not always the way i want them to be,
but the place of resolution that all things are as they are?
and if i didn't walk through that gate,
would it be okay if those answers were not there for me?

i don't know if i can walk through that gate,
and
i don't know if i can't.

couldn't i just always
live in that little sliver of time
where the trees are perfectly lit up with their fall colors
and the sky is that soft cyan blue?

the early morning light
is the light
that
runs through my veins
and
fills me with
the quiet hope that
all will be well.

the late day light
is the light
that i breathe
in,
and fills me with
the assurance that
indeed...
all was well.