A Little Note From The Empire: The Magical In-Between

When the sun shines and the breeze kisses my cheek and plays with my hair; and the most delicious love lifts my feet from the floor still I can't help but notice the tiniest hint of fear pepper the air.

And I hesitate.

And when doom surrounds me and the world has gone dark, my body numb with pain, a hope glimmers ever so softly and whispers, "stay."

And I hesitate.

What is this intelligence?

Both a tiny spark of the same anatomy like fraternal twins in opposing worlds who seem to hold the same objective.

They point me to a bridge between their worlds where one crosses over to meet the other and beckon me to it.

Maybe they lead me to another part of myself, to dwell in the magical in between where I never leave any part of me.

Strange. A paradox solved by a riddle.

It seems nothing ever consumes the moment all at once. Light never pure, nor dark. For always they crave one another.

Desperate to make me whole.

Twins with the same objective, indeed.

What a peculiar little phenomenon?

Might the precise feeling come to pass, when my feet are sure to float away, that holds my ankles and brings me back to solid ground. And if ever the hole too deep to scale, a tiny stone of hope may protrude from the walls to take my step.

May I tug on the thread between opposing worlds next time I've tipped the scale too far and find myself consumed.

And if in the depths of despair, I feel a tiny hope tap my shoulder, may I gladly follow it back to myself. And when my heart is so full of love, may I hold my fears in my arms and show them that they're never alone.

For I am always Whole.