It went right by me--at the time it went over my head. . .
I can't tell you how many people have tried to tell me; nor can I say exactly why it has taken so long for it to sink in.
Closed for my protection, open to your scorn, between these two directions, my heart is sometimes torn . . .
I did in fact treat life as a threat--the present as an obstacle or inconvenience--and wondered why I felt lonely.
I find no absolution in my rational point of view . . .
But let's face it, all the intelligence and preparedness in the world isn't worth a fig if every day is a burden.
I'm not looking back but I want to look around me now . . .
Farewell regret! Even abject failure and pain has had its share in making me what I am. Isn't there enough for today to occupy my attention?
Like some pilgrim who learns to transcend--learns to live as if each step was the end . . .
Each day is a gift.
Freeze this moment a little bit longer, make each sensation a little bit stronger. . .
If I don't see today in its fullness, then why am I alive? Or am I?
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