Human presumption: tomorrow will be a new start. Tomorrow will be good. Tomorrow will be better.
Counting hours, measuring moments. Hopes die down in the process. Anxiety kicks in. It is the wait that brings the weight. Tomorrow, after all, may not be better. Better is not something we wait for, because better doesn’t always come when we want it.
But it comes. Better comes. It doesn’t need to be told. It just does, all on its own accord. Some things doesn’t have to be forced.
We try to find bones and meat when there’s manna in our hands. The truth is, we never run dry. We only have a little, but a little goes a long way. It’s deception, that part of us wanting for more. More isn’t always what we needed. Keeping score and counting numbers is a fetish. To keep our minds preoccupied. To pin for something else. To covet. We often covet. A natural sin. A falling at the deeper end.
But we are here now. We are not empty. There’s a button lost from your sleeve. Your pockets fall apart. There’s a hole in your heart. You are incomplete. But you are something.
Begin with what you have.
Seeds die a little to sprout, and you must bury yourself under layers of dust and soil so you can bloom into a tree. The crackling of your shell will hurt, but in time, your branches will stretch out in their full splendor. You will reach out to the heavens, towering from the ground you were once under.
When you start seeing how big you can be, fire starts.