I gravitate too easily to the universality of things. This often can blind me.

But here I am, and here is the day, and here is the weather, and blow as it may. Life is loving and love is following me.

I’m always talking about that word love in the universal sense, for the record. That great Love. The essence of love. The love in all things. The love at the center of the world, moving atoms haphazardly about. That gravity that pulls us like magnets towards the doors we are always flying out of. That pulls us towards the water. Towards home – that place in the air beyond right and wrong.

Softly flowing lovelight, I am always trying to find you again.

Even after all that wind, there is still music.

When will that wide-gazing eye of universality meet me somewhere in the middle, with a pile of words and a way to sort through them?

There is always more to say. And hardly ever the right way to say it.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” – Rumi

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