I can no more predict tomorrow, then I have predicted today. To ask what I think is just conjecture. Nothing more than a random set of thoughts swirling in a sea of ideas. I used to be so controlling, now I just see life as what happens. I was a planner and an organizer by trade. Now I find the whole business nothing more than a chore. Centering myself on just breathing from one minute to the next. Remaining grateful for each moment I’m given.
I allow the words I write to speak for me. For the words I say are often clouded by self-preservation. For nothing is more freeing than letting go of perdition and embracing the quiet order of nature. Made up rules and moral code may bring order, but often they bog down ideas that otherwise free the soul.
Therefore, I ask no more of you than I ask of myself. To take things as they come. For hiding in the shadows is usually an agenda that’s far beyond our control. We live in unpredictable times. For the hearts of men grow desperate and unforgiving. But if you look into the trees and see the light of the sun reflect upon their leaves. You begin to understand that there is an order to things. An order that apparently men do not understand.