Monday, May 20, 2019

The Astonishing Light...

Hope, Dickinson said, is the thing with feathers, which perches in the soul. Jacob had not grown so cynical as to doubt it. But opposite each truth perched its countervailing twin, and as he inhaled, the frigid air rushed in and filled the empty places within him, places where things like hope had long ago lived. Somewhere in his blood ran memories of those things. Hope. Love. It was like walking around with the grandest of secrets.  Unless, of course, it was lost. Leaving more empty places, which remained empty, or filled with cold, irredeemable things...

Thus reads a passage from the denouement of Cucariva, my literary-suspense manuscript. The tale is, ostensibly dark, and by the end, Jacob, the protag, sees he has irreparably lost the love of his life. But even in this anguish, flicker small embers of hope. As I work on revisions, I've been searching for the right words to convey the pivot that he must execute, that next step--however arduous--in the evolution of his love--namely, that true love is never, must never be, about what we want or what we possess, but simply, how we feel, and what we can give. And in realizing what he lost, Jacob comes finally to understand all he had, and how he must move forward in eternal gratitude. In the end, it is not about what darkness or solitude awaits him, but the light and love she gave him and the world, and that he wishes always for her.

And wouldn't you know it--I'm a writer, but the perfect words I stumbled upon(see the image) are not my own. I'll need to wrangle my own take, but it gets at the heart of all that Jacob wishes to convey. 

This is beautiful, and this is truth.

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