today i saw my potential selves
and my actual self
my potential selves were clouds, gaseous possibilities, not quite condensed into form but in the ether of mind
my actual self was dry, caked earth
i sought to honor both. i wanted to shape my actual self into what was possible while letting myself be an imperfect human, still. god made us from the clay, but clay will never be mind. such is the dilemma of the artist, the form might never fully emulate the vision of Nirvana one seeks to bring forth
but the earth was too dry. the earth was too dry to shape without the risk of it breaking into a million pieces
but the possibility of those potential selves grew too heavy, those clouds condensed and condensed and condensed until the rain fell. i let the storm happen, my tears softened that long-dried earth.
life returned to that earth, then the clay was softened, then i could shape that clay that was me more easily.
i let go of the past in tears, and my future opened up to me.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 