We Do Not Run

There is never really an end point to anything. Not the dandelion stem, the apple core, the Coke bottle, the high school jeans, the universe. Love. Everything, however minute, continues on, transforms into a new material form, a new body of essence, of realization. It all keeps growing, changing, recycling into even more magnificence.
Patience. We have to wait for the wind to carry the seedlings to another corner of the lawn, wait until Spring for the apple core to bury its roots into soil, wait for the plastic to be crushed, melted, remolded into tupperware, wait for our daughters to fill in the hips of our jeans and argue over who gets to wear them to the mall, wait for the universe to expand into plateaus only our future generations will bear witness to.
And love. We will always wait for love. We will heal for it, be selfish and selfless for it, embrace it when it is near, embrace it even more when it needs mending, when thread and needle and a steady hand is not quite enough. We may take one small step back, but we do not run. We do not run from or to. We stay grounded in our place, take notice of the world around us, take notice of ourselves. Patience. Change. Acceptance.
Never an end to anything. An apple orchard where once was fallen, embered crops.