A broken tulip

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Here again. Where? Curious brain, always needing details. Truth is, I do not know.
Truth is, you fall off a cliff into darkness and think you’ll grope your way back up to the daisies.
Truth is, there is no return. There is no going back to the past.
You must turn your feet to the slow, thankless climb up
the opposite side of your darkness. You must move forward to what is (necessarily, awfully) unknown. You continue this slipshod journey straining lungs for each step,
then the pebbles carry you in unwilling retreat back to the bottom. You start again.
Easy to grumble about other souls stuck in darkness as you grit teeth to climb out.
Truth is, there is no more comparison than there is a return to the past.
Truth is, though you try with every ounce of strength any progress made up this slope is a gift – you are receiving
this journey. Truth is, the wind whispers wonders ahead when all you want, all you ask, is to return to what is behind.
Truth is, this moment too will be past and so, unknowing, uncertain, unsure, you still breathe out to say thank you
for the darkness, for climbing, for sweat, for tears, for the daisies left behind, for today. Thank-you-for-this-minute-this-breath.
Truth is, gratitude is never finished, never begun, when each moment follows hard on the heels of the last one.
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