I don’t know if everything is the same as it has always been, and each step is in a direction we already know of instinctively, or if things are in constant transformation awaiting our discovery; If the universe is inside of us, growing with each beat of our hearts, or if we are merely a part of it, a link in the chain of knowledge desiring to be pertinent.  And we are…

It’s 2013, 14, 25… and yesterday was 1857, 1942, 63, 79, 86…  B.C./A.D.  Someone was born of importance, and others died old and aching, young and wanting… Everyone broke someone’s heart.   An event changed everything.  Your grandmother was there, my father, Washington, Martin Luther, John Lennon, Mother Theresa, and Jesus. They built us; and then there was Hitler and Lucifer, who tried to destroy us, but the moon went down over the sea and the sun rose again over the mountains, as it ever shall be world without end.  So we grow and sing and cry.  We conquer and cave. Lose and win.

We are here in New York and New Delhi, in Asia, Spain, Turkey, Norway, Jerusalem and Italy… but these places we call home are but merely fragments of earth that belong to the stars.  We are all born from a mother’s womb that will flourish with life and blood, then return to dust.  We are each other.  Connected.  In the palm of one another’s hands.  Hold me delicately, as I you.

Love stands alone.  It is the fuel of life and dreams.  I have loved you.

There is a universal sound of wisdom implanted in our brains that calls like a seashell humming to take us into the waves of consciousness.  I will meet you there… like a bell that has rung and echoes into the silence.  When it is dark, promise you’ll reach out for my hand and pull me from fear of the unknown.   I know in time we will be cast into the light once again, perfect and innocent, to become ourselves… a cosmic truth.

Author: Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

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