#9 - Growing younger toward death

Belonging is a choice

Our faces would fall away
until we, growing younger toward death
everyday, would gather all our flaws in celebration

to merge with them perfectly,
impossibly, wedded to our essence,
full of silence from the carver’s hands.

- from “The faces at Braga” by David Whyte

I was in my early twenties. I remember the blue sky reflected on the calm waters of the lake. Th…