It was not a noisy wind but the kind that suggests something very big and thin fresh from the horror of Infinite Space.
I stroke the bleached bones of ancient trees felled long-ago by industry or cold desperation and wonder of another almost summer when two fell asleep beneath her arms, curling into each other like wind-swept branches on the edge of tomorrow ...
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I stroke the bleached bones of ancient trees felled long-ago by industry or cold desperation and wonder of another almost summer when two fell asleep beneath her arms, curling into each other like wind-swept branches on the edge of tomorrow ...
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Within its gates I heard the soundOf winds in cypress caverns caughtOf huddling tress that moaned, and soughtTo whisper what their roots had found.(__ Dream of Fear_)
Your words, thoughts, intentions and actions today are your best hope, comfort, building blocks and insurance for tomorrow. But it is now alone that is guaranteed _ tomorrow is a dream, a maybe a potential gift. It__ now - not tomorrow - where happiness and fulfilment live...awaiting your discovery. It__ all this that will make each extra day that may arrive extra special and rich.
Today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness and every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well therefore to this day.
Then the wind came in with Bart and blew the vase of roses from the table. I stood and stared down at the crystal pieces and the petals scattered about. Why was the wind always trying to tell me something? Something I didn't want to hear!
The true fate of tomorrow lies on what you make of today.