Light does not merely fall; it strikes. It refracted and infused with life, cascading through the prism of our being, painting intricate colors on the canvas of our sleeve-worn hearts. But what is a heart if not a wild, pulsing thing trapped in the ribcage? Each hue is a story, yes, but also a demand. Each shade a memory etched, no, scarred, into the tapestry of our souls.

Nothing is immune. We are porous. The universe does not just caress; it invades. It whispers a tale that resonates within us, a language spoken before words were invented, back when we were only thirst and reaching.

From the quiet solitude of a just-ended summer rain, that damp, primal smell of earth, to the cacophony of a city wide awake, we find ourselves mirrored. But the mirror is cracked, and in the shards, we see the truth: we are the symphony and the silence that follows it. Every heartbeat, every breath, every birth, and every passing, each a thread. We are being woven by a hand we cannot see, into a fabric that feels like skin.

“I am before, I am almost, I am never.”

With each loss, we do not just mourn; we diminish. With each new beginning, we are reborn, blinking and terrified. This cycle of joy and sorrow is not a bond we choose, but a gravity we cannot escape. We are not solitary beings adrift; we are a single, gasping breath shared across the vast expanse. We are inseparable from the grand design, even when that design feels like a labyrinth.

In the depths of our souls, there are no echoes, only the thing itself. The silent space between heartbeats is where the real life happens. You and I, we are fragments, yes, but fragments of a mirror reflecting the sun. We are vessels of light, vessels of life, but mostly, we are vessels of Is-ness.

In this intricate dance, we are fleeting shadows. And yet, there is a glory in this impermanence. To be a shadow is to prove that the Light exists. There is everything that touches me, there is the raw “it” of the world inside me, and in this shared, wordless journey, there is everything that touches us.

It is. And I am. And you are.

©️ Beatriz Esmer