TTK No. 37

Looking through the keyhole at my tiny experience, I have believed so much and so many times that I am a small speck. My fears have rocked me. One thought, only one thought, might destroy me. I have believed this. My mind has never stopped threatening to destroy me. I have cowered beneath its spell. For too long. For all time. Might I be brave and strong enough to see that the one which is threatened is a speck of belief, and might I know once and for all that this that I truly am cannot be destroyed by phantoms of the mind, that it stands aside and watches, and that the phantom is only a shadow dancing upon the wall, and the mind is the candle in the room. Where was I but writing the poetry in which the play of light was interwoven in the darkness? Might I love and be the power and weakness and realize I am ink and pen and tendons in the wrist that make powerful strokes upon a paper.