Moments are forced upon us though we forge our own paths.
There are possibilities and false leads in every direction.
The outcome is never an absolute and regret or relief might both result.
The soft edge of dark lures us into the void then leaves us waiting, alone.
This is what chokes our airways, stanches our blood.
It’s the response we choose that makes us who we are – hero, fool, supplicant.
Knowing that the future is always a mystery grants us courage or makes us cower.
Success is a triumph one day, an accusation the next, a mourner over the open grave.
It slices our souls. It pools our tears. It makes us human.
This is what sears our minds, opens our hearts to prayer.
Just a thought 79
Landscape painting by Orson Pratt Huish, courtesy Wikipedia
Acceptance is natural. Hate must be taught.
Sharing creates a community. Privacy needs a wall.
It takes about forty muscles to smile, sixty to frown.
Tears of joy flow down our cheeks the same as tears of sorrow.
Giving makes at least two people feel wonderful. Getting pleases one – sometimes.
Closing a door gently allows someone to come back in. Slamming it might shut someone out forever.
My door is always open.
I can’t wait to see you open the present.
Goodness, I can’t help but cry to see you so happy.
My grin is making my cheeks sore, so they’ll just have to ache.
I made stew, please come, bring dessert, and we’ll enjoy the evening together.
My mom once said to me, when I asked if she could she take my son for his cello lesson, that I’d told her everything she needed to know about how to get to the teacher’s house, and how long the lesson would last, but I’d left out that the woman was Black. Never dawned on me to mention it. She was simply a great teacher.
Just a thought 25.
2018 image courtesy Pixabay.com