I vow to be optimistic this evening
and tomorrow
and the day after
and nexterday
For if nature agrees to winter, spring, summer and fall
And trees after dormancy come to life again
Then who am I to give up in the season before me?
I am rooted to the earth, reaching toward the heavens and surely poised to support new limbs and leaves and buds once the winter's cold has crystallized into wisdom that runs slow and steady through me till light again outshines the dark hours
Breathing, I remind myself this quiet and reflective time like all other experience is intended by a universal intelligence I can never see. And faith like a good friend whispers in my ear, sweet dreams and trust that all will come to pass in due time.
This is perfection. Imperfect as it may feel. I would have it no other way.
