It is 12:40 a.m.
I am sitting in the dark, just finished a bowl of cereal, Trix if you want to know. I am listening to the rain and thunder. And the lightning strikes flash in the kitchen window.
I am worried. Worried for so many reasons. Worried for so many people. Worried about the days and years ahead. And the lightning strikes flash in the kitchen window.
Yesterday sometimes feels better than today. Tomorrow feels heavy and sticky, like the humidity that will soak my skin on my morning walk. Routines can foster a dread of the unknown, yet that is where we find the edges of who we are.
And the lightning strikes flash in the kitchen window.
I don’t understand so many aspects of this life. How Love never really wins, never lands enough punches to turn the tide. The judges always side with Hate. But when the bell rings, Love finds its legs, making it through another round. But I am tired. The temptation to throw in the towel gets harder to shred.
And the lightning strikes flash in the kitchen window.
It is 12:52 a.m.
It is all Connected 