This glorious myth, the tale of Isis and Osiris, reminds us
that no matter how broken, how lost we are, we can be found.
Our wounded souls are never beyond repair. Black females and
males can use this myth to nurture the memory of sustained
connection with one another, of a love that has stood and can
stand the test of time and tribulation. We can choose a love
that will courageously seek out the wounded soul, find you,
and dare to bring you home again, doing what must be done to
help put the bits and pieces together again, to make us whole.
This is real cool. This is real love.

In a way, her strangeness, her naiveté, her craving for the other half of her equation was the consequence of an idle imagination. Had she paints, or clay, or knew the discipline of the dance, or strings, had she anything to engage her tremendous curiosity and her gift for metaphor, she might have exchanged the restlessness and preoccupation with whim for an activity that provided her with all she yearned for. And like an artist with no art form, she became dangerous.

You are the universe, expressing itself as a human for a little while