The balance is tricky between love and fear. Love may now be intensifying, but there are oceans to cleanse, trees to plant, soil to enrich, air and water to purify, and kinship to offer freely before the Heaven of my imagination opens up like a flower upon my slack jawed remembrance. (Do not be afraid, she is full Love.) Everlasting sleep might be just what the doctor ordered, but I’m not a doctor, so I choose instead to desire life eternal in my belief, living evermore, there’s far less suffering as a result, at least that’s what I believe. Living is so much more appealing to me than dying, for what is death but an unknowable? I should want to know and believe in life while I’m living… (Love has two levels, overflowing and not enough…) The best way to not lose my way in belief is to carry only Love in everything I do and imagine… (When deeds surrender to belief, the eartH will succumb to misery…) I awoke in the hell of my making and crawled through the muck to get back ...
(The Weaver's Song)