Out of the blue, or should I say purple, the scene changes again. I’m living in this wrong side of the mirror world where all I can behold is what might have been, the way things ought to be. My heart is pounding and I cannot explain it. I know that I must jump into a puddle and find my destiny. There is little relief except in early morning prayers, but by the time night is here, I am weary. Nevertheless I’ll class my hands, gaze upward and wait for redemption.
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Writing; wondering; creating
Etcetera 