Judge Not, Lest

It has never been my place to judge you any more than it has ever been my place to judge a stranger. I wasn’t there for every unfolding moment of your existence. I haven’t felt your pain or seen the world through the tint of your mind. I haven’t felt your heart beating strong in my ribcage and I haven’t counted your tears or the hairs on your head. What I know of you is the pinprick of light that you offer to me when you can, but what there is to know of you is a whole universe of stars. Your soul fades into the heart of God just the same as mine. Every time we hurt each other we bring forward a jury panel of our pasts. I can’t see where my words have cut you. You can’t see where yours have cut me. Here we are, blindly wounding the infinitely fragile frames of our spirits, assuming that we haven’t drawn blood, but the cosmic can bleed darkness, too. We should never assume when it comes to things like this how heavy our blows are felt when to our hands they feel like mere pats of condescension, and I am insecure and I am imperfect and I am inconsiderate, and so is anyone, and so is everyone, all of us lost, all of us broken, all of us feeling the weight of every failure, and what any one of us needs is to offer our light, pinprick by flashing pinprick, until our hearts are understood enough that there is no judgment, only love, love for every star that beckons us to believe that ours are not the only eyes to regard the sky.