“And on the eighth day, God created the blues.”
I wake with the sense I missed
the crossroads. The intersection
of the four directions, the five elements,
fate and destiny. Time and eternity being
weighed and divided, given to me.
That the sacrament of reading wonders
and signs denied. That the one who could
have said, “Forever” and made it reality
behind, beyond me, gone. And that my
life has been in pursuit of hearing, “I’ll
meet you at the crossroads” knowing
the one it is and getting there and waiting
to see who comes. Maybe today,
maybe tomorrow. Maybe hope is enough
to find my way, to say, “Here I am,” to hear, “I see.”
-Byron Hoot
Hootism: in the single blink of an eye, enough may be seen to last a lifetime.
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