There's something about the in-between - the space where you're going, and the space where you've been.
The proof you were here, and the things that you've seen.
To the marks that we make, in the stars, on the earth - each violent hand and phrase that can't be unheard.
To clocks ticking backward, while we're chasing our worth.
In a finite dominion we study and name,
the liminal breaks all our efforts to tame.
Second to second, we're never the same.
On roads wide and bright, or as yet unknown paths, through seasons and solstice, there's just one thing I ask.
When the noise drops away between now and the next task, and you worry your thoughts might be odd, mad, or brash,
In that one endless moment, where the full silence falls,
promise me you'll always answer its call.
Blessed Yule, and a Happy New Year