When I can’t pray, I hope – There’s someone out there with warm memories of me, Thinking good thoughts, speaking … More
You just might become it
Under the sun there is a season for everything,
Eventually, the dust will settle
And there will be light at the end of the tunnel,
Pain demands to be felt;
feeling is what makes us human,
And that is the thing –
To feel it but do not live with it.
For life itself is a kind of hell; different days, different levels. Every first light breeds a new kind of evil.