Change

Do we see change as a glorious day coming to an end to herald a soulless dark night, or as the bright orange-brown leaves of  trees in autumn, awaiting their imminent fall, or do we see it as a helpless earth-bound caterpillar growing wings to take on and conquer the vast sky?

Do we see change with our minds' eyes that gravitate towards focussing on the 'destination', or the end, after a brief glance at the 'beginning'? Do we let the mind oscillate between these two end points or let it branch off in an endless dance, as it uses this warp and weft to weave its magic and create its beautiful, unique tapestry of intricately embroidered thoughts? Or do we see change with our hearts' eyes, that courses different landscapes - rugged and even, or dreary and green, before it reaches its home that never really arrives?

What is change really?
Is it a journey or an end?
Is it a stirring or an awakening?
Is it life-giving and life-sustaining or is it a purging?

Change is not a leap of faith into the unknown dark abyss of an impending future that you are glaring at, as you stand on the precipice of unbroken thoughts.
It is not a black and white drawing on an empty canvas.
It is not the heart-warming sunrise after a dark night of the soul, or the pearly moonlit night that lovers dream of after the glare and white noise of an overworked day.
It is what happens in the gap between moments. Always, between.
It is the alchemy of two thoughts taking each others' hands while inspired to do an impromptu dance. It is each colour of the rainbow taking its hue from the other, where black and white speak only of a sacred union or a glorified absence, with a zillion shades of greys and other colours blending seamlessly into each other.
Change is the seed that falls in the dirt, which holds within it the roots of an unsaid promise to stay grounded in itself; the seed that holds green leaves of hope and courage that branch into endless possibilities; a strong, steady trunk of willful integrity and love that pierces into the clear sky of overhanging opportunities, reaching out to the steadfast sun and the distant stars of ever-twinkling dreams, giving of itself every moment in spite of its twisted, scarred and termite-ridden bark that breathes death into its every cell.
Change is the quiet, underground tilling of the rich, vibrant soil that never gives up on life, where nothing goes to waste, where the darkest secrets are held and composted, constantly churning out the sustenance that forms the very bedrock of the indomitable human spirit.
It is the persistent, silent eroding over time, of a fickle, resilient mind that's stuck in the desert sands of dead habit, by the slow, razor-sharp river of fearlessness, cutting through to form impeccable canyons, where shadows sink into the pink sunset of yet another day well-lived.
Change is sometimes like a shooting star that suddenly appears on a dark night, but we don't see the journey it has made to get here - the billion light years that it has traversed in emptiness, to get to where it is now, only to blow up and melt into a nothingness that brightens up a longing heart, that's always looking for that glimmer of hope in an uncertain sky.
Change is the only certainty - a tiny sandcastle built by happy little kids close to the vast bosom of a lusty ocean, unfazed by its own impermanence of being swallowed by the tireless waves of reason.
It is the sacred leash that binds us all to the circle of life and love - a lead that keeps us in the game as we try to make sense of it all, much like a dog chasing its own tail which it can never get a hold of.
Change is what drives the seas, the skies, the earth and the waters and all of creation - a time-lapse video of the making of humanity and life, that we can never hope to see in its entirety.