What do we know about the character of life? We try to recreate its dignity, without even meeting its true form...

How much time do we spend obsessing over what we could have said? Why can't we have faith that it was meant to be, whatever caused our hearts to sing or our lips to finally cease to be still...

It's time to open my heart up, seek the help my broken self yearns for. Oh God, now is the time. The time to heal.

And how can we sleep
when we're inhaling life
five thousand shades
too deep?

In my heart of hearts I believe forgiveness is everlasting and for each human on this earth. But I alter between days, going back and forth in my mind: "It means me, it means me not."

You deserve painless victories, without rheumatic bones and abnormal skin temperatures. I know nothing of your illness though. I fear your separation from her yet you whisper, "love is universal; love is life and life is a reflection of love."

Stop making what was meant as good intentions, into a comparison that has little validity. Respect with an attempt at understanding. Think before you speak, before you hurt those who offer their lives for the heart of their country.

Okay, day. I will be up tomorrow to greet your sun. To let her know she has a friend. And instead of retreating back inside, feet rolling on vacuumed carpet, I will photograph your beauty and share its glory.

Stop drowning yourself in your past.

I try to inform you of how I am, but then every trivial part of my day turns into something I could have done differently [your way].... a lesson that can be learned even when I am the only one involved and know how to never cross the problem again.