Photo by George Becker
Let’s field the surface of our dreams, strip them bare, labor as we would work the cold in search of heat, defy the belief of our limitations, how we fail one another constantly, that there is intimacy enough to be shared, bountiful to sustain and feed our unwillingness to accept each other while standing our disappointment that we are not yet the body of people we are meant to be.
Perhaps these resources are scarce and are but imagined to be plentiful, present only in scripture and lore and fairy-tale. Why else place more faith in things we cannot see then what is directly in front of us.
We find comfort in solitude betimes because the arms which are there to hold us are not the arms we crave. We are capable and somehow inept to provide these things.