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Idle hands and hearts make for the most unhappy existance. I know mine are spurned to action. For there is no satisfaction like a beautiful creation which was lovingly nurtured from the start.

When the leaves get dry, just let me know. If there is not water for miles around, I will start the trek. When we meet at the oasis, I will take your hand again.

Nothing should supercede the things which are of paramount importance. Do not live for just one something, but that multitude of moments. They will all flow together and stick together as if with paste.

Thick gooey paste that binds our lives together. Drying with that thin film covering the clearest of pictures. One must squint to see between the smudges. Luckily we are not meant to bear this burden alone.

Self introspection is bitter like a mouthful of horseraddish. Biting at the tongue. Yet without this nourishment, the reminder of pains past and to come, we may forget the joys entirely.

Too often we allow menial things to swallow our joy. To watch them slide down some gaping chasm is truly a waste.

I have no intention of feeding my joy to any monsters of fear.