The morning would be called dull, today.
Its nine, but the sun is behind a curtain of cloud. Grey and cold. The air barely stirs. It is quiet.
The seasons seem to be out of season, again. Just a couple of days ago, the sun was very bright, the red dust from
The world seems to be moving on in times usual flood. Super Tuesday was and is gone. Hamas sent another suicide bomber into
And yes, in
Life’s a dream;
I’m yet to wake.
Why? This is what is usual. Maybe I am just low of spirit. Somehow, they seem to have become more of a load to my mind than usual.
Here comes my love. He does sense my low spirits. Lies down behind me, puts his head on my shoulder.
Warm, comforting, peaceful.
That is what love is. Something beautiful, a flower of peace and calm, though you are in a raging storm of pain.
Sometimes, many times, the world seems crazy, and I can make no sense of it. It is dull with the pain of many people, and senseless happenings. Somehow, hope still rises in my breast, in that of others.
Pain is, but pain will not cut off hope, nor will love not grow in a desert.
Hope is an oasis in a desert
a green garden in a sea of sand.
Hope is a fountain of honey,
drink of water on a day of thirst.
Have a good day, wherever you are. Because the day is good, and beautiful, and it is something that is uniquely its own to you. Happiness is a well of hope in your heart. Tap into it, and have a good day.