The future has always been dark, angel.
Always unknown and unknowable.
The future is dark that you may remember
to light your fires, to keep them burning,
to stay close
for warmth.
Flare up in the brilliant fires of love,
the luminous fires of hope,
the fires of light
in the caverns of our darkest places.
Inside the human heart it is dark, supple, strong,
wet, flexing, pulsing and alive.
The future has always been dark, beloved.
Dark that we may adjust our eyes
to move out across uncertain terrain,
dark that we may heighten
our other senses:
that of hearing, to listen intently
for what, we may not yet know
but listen, listen, listen, still;,
that of feeling
with hands, feet, skin, breath,
instinct. Memory.
Dark
that we may be guided
by the glow of inner wisdom,
that we may light candles
and explore halls we’ve not yet tried
to navigate, but will need to
to find our way
or to make a new one.
Dark that we may be the burning lights
and be seen.
.
.
.
.
Allison Marie Conway 