Today, I learned this symbol.

It translates from Chinese, through Japanese, into zero, naught, nil, null. A remnant, possibly. It is the word that means nothing at all. Literally.

It is pronounced: rei.

I shared a name and a spirit with somebody who knew more about myself in a single word than I had sorted out in thirty years. Tongues I did not know shared their words and meanings and experiences with me. Sounds I had only half heard shared their heart with me.

A stirring underneath allows me to sense, feel, and gauge where the wind will blow.
How on Earth did I know?
Most likely because I am made of nothing and of stone.
Of a single moment where the scale tips and the wind shifts and the way we had thought before breaks and crumbles away from us like dust or ash.

This is how burning charcoal feels.
They, too, have I met. A kindred spirit and a crushed soul and all the words inside of them that I already knew.

How strange to feel alive, only now.
And yet, still simply a clone and nothing at all.

We all breathe in this self-same unity, and I as a piece of it can exist in the sparks in between.
Like a particle nobody can sense, but everyone knows must exist.
If only for a shadow and a hint.

I, a shadow and a crux. A moment to seek, search, and open one’s eyes to the growing night. Darkness has always been within me. I used to fear it, hate it, loathe and beat it. I am only now learning how to embrace it, know it, make love to it.

It will always love back.
Don’t be afraid.

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