December's Crystal

Winter months ring-in an ending, and a new beginning soon to arrive; sometimes cold, sometimes cruel, sometimes skies streaked with clouds, or clear, with a sun that is worshiped by many, succumbing to warmth a sun drenched heat brings sighs.

Snowmen are built, then start to melt, racing against time towards streams, filling the banks with a clear liquid of blue, where seen is a crystal lying dormant for an eternity, uncovered by torrents of overflowing rivers, etched by rocks beaten into an awakening.

A crystal like no other...covered in gold flecks, shining so bright the eyes cannot stand the strength it emanates; close your eyes and imagine the world covered in warm golden hues, covered with hope that shines through the coldness of hearts; warmth washing away the hardness of hatred...

A crystal held in your hand; imagine-believe-hope for tidal waves of love rippling in and between; over and across; above and below; a heaven erasing the hell on earth; blooming like a flower that has never seen the sun, forever more; through eternity.  Believe.

A Time Filled With Memories

Thanksgiving, a day filled with memories.  I think about the past, the present, and the future.  There are people I miss, people who were once part of my life, people I am thankful for in my present, for being part of these memories;  the good times, the in-between times, the growing pain times where a helping hand was outstretched to keep me from falling.  

I think about the family and friends who helped me stand, helped me to walk, and helped me to run.  I think about the shadows, the darkness, but most of all the light that comes into these memories.  The times I played, the times I worked, the times that raced me into and through the hard jobs with people who kept me going toward tomorrow.

Memories of Thanksgivings come to mind; memories of family and friends gathered around the table to eat, and to laugh and be grateful; those times were the best of times, and sometimes the worst….now fading as I age, once here, now going.

The sun comes up each morning, and waves the passing of time into night’s darkness; moisture settles across the field of sunflowers, and the last light reflects the dew as it lingers on petals, feeding the thirst of the tiny lady bug.  In these moments I watch; in these moments I wait; in times like these I give thanks for these memories.