I pass an old chest in the mornings. Worn by wind, by rain, by life. Always closed, but it opens up when I pass and gives me the my day.
Though worn on the outside, the inside is filled with colours, music, fragrances. And the more I am given each morning, the more is left in the chest. Music flows out even before the chest opens its top for me. The music fills me, me feet start to dance, my heart swirls. Most days the music is bright and happy, other days a requiem flows.
The chest is almost like an altar. I meet God there. I am given my day.
Walk, God says, I am with you. I walk at your side day and night. Lean on me. Dance with me. Cry. Laugh. Be silent. Talk. Be.
