How long before I realize that it makes me truly happy to feed the birds?
How long before I act as though kindness mattered above all else?
How long before I realize that I don’t need (or even want) most of my belongings?
How long before I fully recognize that working on a miniature scale is right for me?
How long until I feel that I have a right to the workings of my imagination, no matter how the cultural dialogue is unfolding (though ignoring the dialogue is impermissable)?
What if I could act as if everything was happening, not according to plan per se, but in its right and true time? In other words, what if all delinquencies were forgiven or rendered irrelevant? How liberating a thought!
** A huge thanks to all the recent lovely and thoughtful comments. Thank you. It really means a lot to me. Thank you, again.