4/12/20 Sunday
Gray fog, born of the sea. The invisible cold blows softly, a wet whisper. There is no escape its timeless breath. We close our eyes and acknowledge the ominous embrace, yet we do not accept, we do not yield. Standing resolute and firm, we fight the silent enemy with our greatest strength – each other.

In time the fog relents, burned away by light and warmth. We make the most of our opportunity. We express and create, love and connect. With gratitude, hope and longing, we lose ourselves in the beauty of the blue. It is appreciated if not understood.

The fog returns. Cold as before, the air shivers with uncertainty and risk. Yet this time we are not afraid, nor blindly optimistic. It is not the blue skies that are needed – it is knowledge, love, and understanding. Death and decay are a part of our world, but so is youth, beauty, and goodness. We dance not to reach the end, but for the sake of the dance itself.

Utterly beautiful!
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Thank you 🙂
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Just shared your lovely post (prose poetry) on my twitter. 🤓
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Thanks, I’m honored!
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My pleasure!
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