Dancing till the sun shines.

So lately I've been writing metaphorically and poetry (gasp) and not so typical things that frankly I don't know what to do with...I think I just need to get them out of my system so I can go back to telling you my embarrassing stories. For now though, I'm learning a lot about point of view and writing seems like a lovely way to grapple with it.

Walking in these troubled woods, the trees sometimes seem to cover and drown out my tiny sunshine desperately trying to get my attention. The sun that pokes and bleeds through the canopy of leaves above me. I don't notice. I'm staring at the ground. I'm staring so hard, my eyes have adjusted and my mind has gone numb. The ground is all sorts of hurting with rocks and pebbles and branches clawing at my feet. I watch the distance disappear as my unsteady strides swallow the dirt whole.

I stumble, over and over, again and again, as it all gets darker and darker. I'm squinting at the ground, asking where it's going.
I curse the sun for not shining.
If only I knew, if only I realized the sun wasn't hiding from me, but I was missing it.

If I would stop staring at the hardness of the ground, the pain in these steps, if I would stop wondering why I had to walk this way, and merely look up. Look way up. If I would notice the shreds of light shining just for me a little beyond what my eyes can grasp, and know that darkness is only darkness when you don't look elsewhere out of blind instinct. If I held fast to the dots of light I would probably walk a little lighter. I would probably lift my hands to the sky and grin, telling the light to come on down. I would probably pick up my feet a little differently. I would probably learn to dance on this tired ground.

I would probably dance so hard, I would forget the floor beneath me.
Oh, what a joy to redefine the darkness.
Oh, what a thing to learn how to dance until the sun shines.