The train whistle, the cold air, i've been here before. Train whistle, cold air.
When I'm stuck, when I find myself repeating actions and/or words, I trace the steps back to find where I went off thread, find where I turned, then I pray I never venture that way again, at least not without the pulse of the lesson as my guide.
That's what I meant to say the first time, that's what I should've done the first time, and the next and the next and the next and the next until love and peace are center, a balance, a truth, a joy, a remembered Union.
Perfection holds many, many flaws. Perfection, it is the cat's meow, the dog's bark, the wind's howl, the soil's weeping, the water's glee. Think.