Succumbing finally, she lets out a loud shriek as her vehicle stops at a red light. __uck._ She hollers cursing the night. Cursing the shadows, cursing the unknown condemned she intends to meet this evening. Tears roll down her cheeks landing on her bullet proof vest.

We are souls, eternal and perfect, captains of our mystic ships: gods and goddesses of our universe. We are beautiful, we pearls of grit. We, the ember of everything. Our uniqueness IS what makes us special, and the expression of it is our gift to the rest of us. In order to feel happy and fulfilled, we must honour our own personal brand of creativity... let it out into the world... BE who we came here to BE.

she slammed the door andwas gone.I looked at the closed doorand at the doorknoband strangelyI didn't feelalone.

How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness?__rom the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born.

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.

The practice of love offers no place of safety. We risk loss, hurt, pain. We risk being acted upon by forces outside our control.