Love Letter to a Wayward Friend

Once upon a time in a world full of stories,

two hearts of different backgrounds

wandered into sight of each other.

One heart was full and round and red, and was

filled with so much goodness that it spilled out of it

in ribbons of light that trailed behind it on the floor.

One heart was shrouded, but if you lifted the hood,

you'd see that it was covered with old closed up holes

and scars of past threads.

Here, you said, as you held out a shining thread of your hair.

Take it, it is free, and I am giving it to you.

I wish to know you better.

No, I replied, I am afraid.

I am full of too many scars, and I don't know if I could handle it

when you left me behind.

The heart plucked a thread out of its head,

broke free one shining piece of goodness,

and pressed it into the other heart's hand.

It is only one small piece, I whisper to myself,

and it glows so bright.

And it binds together the holes that are in me.

You may keep it. I have enough to go around.

Only when you are ready, spread your own

goodness to others in the same way.

In the beginning the thread only shone when

the hearts were together, and retreated into darkness

when they were apart.

The thread that was freely given took root

and from it grew more threads that healed over the old scars

and slowly made them beautiful.

The shrouded heart found it no longer wanted to hide.

There were other hearts, both brilliant and faded,

and they were all good in their own way.

All the heart had to do was offer up one shining thread

one gesture of acceptance,

and those hearts began to shine in return.

I have to leave, you whispered.

There are others that need my goodness and light,

and I have to help them.

I am not afraid, I whispered back.

I can shine with my own light now.

It is time to give out my own threads.

I am not afraid, because where you were

is not a hole or a scar, it is simply on hold

and waits for you to fly home.

Because the spot where you reside in me

is the shape of colorful rainbows,

desert landscapes, and flowing rivers.

It is everything good and beautiful

that reminds me of you, and

I do not fear pain of loss.

Because love does not injure

and only makes us grow into

more than we ever thought possible.

I throw off my shroud as you wind your path away from me.

I do not need it anymore, because the only marks you left on me

are proof of love.