Across the Thoughtswell

When there is light, there is hope. When there is dark, there is hope. No one of us is limited to a bleak obsolescence, a mere side dish on the platter of fate. Does fate exist? I leave that up to you. Let the river rush through, as words, and let the high rocks crush and the trees hang me, until pain bleeds out and is no more. As we blink back our tears, the Earth drinks of them, and our smiles outshine the sun and rain, and all.

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Everyone else is on the same page, and I need to get with the program, but I just don’t fit.

So, what can I do now?

Across the Thoughtswell

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

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