For all the places that momentum is shed, that the weakness and strength of human emotion crowds the starting line and threatens to end the race before it begins,
for each of those moments,

I am crying right now.

Crying because it hurts to remember what we dreamed and never began, crying because I am overwhelmed at the greatness I still have the chance to be and create.

These tears are heavy, slow and clean
– shed without pressing my face into a mask of anguish,
Like the tears of surprise and relief when you realize that the late night intruder in the house is actually the man you love being quiet on the stairs so as not to wake you,

Like the tears you cry when your best friend’s little girl walks for the first time and you explode with pride that you can’t claim — remembering that she doesn’t belong to you — and the hole inside that seems too large to fill with borrowed joy.

Like the knowledge that there may be nothing you can do to keep someone dear close enough for them not to bruise themselves on the illusions of their own failure.

In this existence we are beautiful and fragile, quickly, so quickly – we are undone. Yet seeming is not truth; the still moment where we feel inertia drag at us, where we fear to lose our breath like the shark who can’t stop swimming, that moment of stillness is relative.
Our earthly motion continues and in fact, it can carry us through the stillness
(a treasure of reflection, if we could only see it thus)
and into the next great beginning…