Cycling through death to life.

This is hard to write about. Part of tilling soul soil is being willing to admit things. And while I can admit this to myself [sometimes] and those around me, I’ve had problems admitting some of this to other people.

I looked down in the land of my grief and there it was - something I’d never seen before. It was earth in my hands. I didn’t know where it came from. I looked out across the horizon of my life, my circumstances, my contexts and the con in my texts, and I saw desolation.