I don’t want to know what tomorrow brings, how it all turns out, how we might, at the end of it all, be rich or poor, lonely or surrounded, fine with it all or disappointed.
I don’t want to know the count of the stars in the sky or if they might fall one day.
I don’t want to know if this is it or if there’s more, because what is more than this?
At the end of the day all I want to know is the way the sun cast shadows and makes the manes on the horses glow like haloes in the pasture outside my window.
I want to know this. I always want to know this…
And the crunch of the leaves beneath my boots.
The smell of the sage.
The red on the berries, a gift of color that stays with us through winter.
The sound of the breeze bending the bare branches and how there’s no such thing as quiet when a heart beats.
I don’t want to know the length of a good life or the minutes in forever or how it could, how it will, end.
I only want to know that golden light, the light that makes angels out of horses, and warms your face under your hat after a day’s work.
I want to know this light as it blots out the stars and makes for us a day.
And in that day and the days that might follow, the things that don’t matter, I don’t want to know.
It makes no difference, except one thing.
The thing that makes all the difference, that thing that holds on as that sun rises and sets.
The thing that I know like the light on your face.
You are loved. You are loved.
Every day you are loved.