Reflections by Caleb
By: Caleb Buchbinder
Words cannot describe something born out of a place so much greater than words can reach. Many poets and writers have tried to reach such places, the good ones going insane in the process.
I however, hold the belief that impossible is only that which has not yet happened, so I shall try.
Over a year ago 40 people gathered together to share something. Themselves. To be born in a cloud of hellfire enthusiasm. Creating such a want to love it hurt. When the dust would settle from all around could be heard voices asking “who am I?”
Through pressure awakened to our more silent places. The slow crystallization of what I mean. And you. You who are unknowable. You whose light illuminates my dark and in turn whose dark calls forth my light. One year of dipping our toes in the pool of creation and seeing how it feels to break the surface.
Now the year is over. Sometimes the silence is deafening. Without your pressure my form loosens. The man behind the desk tries his best to persuade me it was just a dream. That, what I remember are just the recollections of childish naïveté.
When I still my breath and listen however, somewhere from my centre rises that which was given by you. The unknowable taking me in its hands and striding forward.
