Month: April 2021

Only in the face of death do we most value life.

Trust the man who cries. Fear the man who weeps.

No one has ever been worse off for reading one short poem a day.

You don’t need a weathervane to know which way the wind blows.

Think not of the dead as dead. Think of them instead as simply somewhere else. Not here. Not in your presence. But somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere untouched by time. Distant, absent always, but waiting — waiting with hope, waiting with patience, waiting for the day when destiny will reunite us all, perhaps for one final journey.