If we will just look.

Bleeding Hearts @ Shelter Garden, Columbia, MO.The light looks so nice right now. It is that golden hour, right before our sun's setting. The air is cool, blowing gentle against spring leaves, buds, blossoms and my face framing hair. We all ruffle, but no real harm is done to our order, soon enough we will settle back in place.

That is my prayer or wish, dream or desire-- to settle into place. To find my niche. Even in all this disorder there is order, in all this nonsense, sense. Sometimes I grow bitter with all the searching, I long so desperately to be found. I'm tired of constant craving and the grasping for satiation. Of weeding through all of the possible answers-- for comfort, for grace, for peace.

There are so many questions and so many answers, my mind boggles. There are so many versions of myself I see, and yet I do not believe I have even embraced this current version. Today looking in the mirror I saw so many things in my face. A softness I had almost forgotten. An undeniable vulnerability. Traces of sadness. There was searching there too, to be known, loved, understood. I think, no, I believe deep within my heart that those things can be observed on the faces of all humanity. If we will just look.