Love is all around.
In your reach is the divinity of creation and fortune of kindred spirits.
Live and let live, the romance of wild youth and stillness of old age.
The illusion of exhaustion is fatal.
The thrill of movement is constructive.
Wrote myself a little letter of compassion many gloomy moons ago and hid it in the most calculated of places, knowing I would forget its existence and once again reunite with the reassuring words at the rise of dawn…
A wondrous “surprise” entering the new year, I share for many in need of a sweet sanction to subsist.
JunkDror 
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