Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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Come on. The cold relents. The biting frost disappears. The wounds of winter heal. Live. You’ve done it before. The roads threatened with their access to an end, the tuck and dive and screech and crush avoided by simple hopes. That next great meal. That next wonderful kiss. The next joke and beautiful day where the warmth of the sun falls and teases skin to freedom. Everything dies, including sorrow. Rage isn’t an endless spring. Loneliness is a state of transition. From once frozen ground, rendered lifeless by the caustic season of discontent arises a bud of hope. In even the most sterile terrain, life wins. It wins because the seed won’t be broken until it’s ready for the reach. Nature designed the shell crack in safety, and broken hearts mend, arms like shoots looking for complete. Embrace the light, taste the wet. Believe. Everything grows again. Even you.

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