When Revolution Comes on The Longest Night

It is the longest night in human history.

One for revolution.

For breaking points, breaking out, and breaking through.

For being plunged into a darkness that will require us to use our hearts to see.

For feeling the full weight of our chains and rattling them until we've come loose.

For the rooting of our feet and the locking of arms against the onslaught of the past.

For yielding to what's rising within and all around.

For standing firm and not shrinking back.

For answering history's call to move forward at all costs.

For answering nature's call to evolve beyond our ingrained desire for the ways it's always been.

It is a night for rebirth.

A night for rending and tearing.

A night for exposing the soft flesh of our underbelly and gutting it.

A night for bloodletting and transfusion.

A night for labor, the pressure of history causing us to bear down and birth what's been growing individually and collectively in this passing season.

A night for shifting and crumbling, dismantling, and then erecting on new foundations.

A night for new dreams to be planted.

A night for rousing your fellow man and saying, "Come, let's go."

A night for dry bones to come to life and dance with each new wind that blows through their marrow.

A night for unleashing what's been planted, nourished, and cultivated in the recesses of our souls for such a time as this.

It is the longest night in human history. May we be ready to stand in the light of all things new when daybreak finally comes.

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