A season of Love is golden to witness. A power no man can eclipse or decent to. A challenge to moderate when waves of life stream hopes and dreams. A measure of resiliency or failure to engage spirited desire.
No compass bears direction. No river of Love points true. When fools like me bear witness a second life is born inside to live, wither, or die.
But it's time is remembered. Yet for the cherished season to form and shape the boundary or to flow till time takes hearts to God's en folding hands and shields them until the season to live again is conceived.
One more reason to meditate
Posted - Sep 03 2017 : 08:01:38 AM
