I hope and forgive and confess every day to live clean - it seems to be enough, but it is not easy.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
I hope and forgive and confess every day to live clean - it seems to be enough, but it is not easy.
This pouring rain, books in a row, and I a misanthrope - considerably restored.
There is a secret joy to be dancing in the sunset and moonlight serenades.
She believes that whatever happens, she will always be good, open, and free.
Forgive if you can. That's all there is to it.
The bookworm, left alone to read. One page is too elusive. Another minute here, just a little more time.
Come away with me. Forget everything. You must go to a place of grass, silence and woods. A place like that was alive.
I'm daydreaming at the sky, I regain my balance in the passing landscape. I feel the quiet. There is no chaos. There is no crowd.
When we find ourselves wanting nothing, when one is so full joy emanates from inside and I feel now as if I want to live each day in the absolute fact the sun is shining.
This morning I feel oddly happy. The secret of peace: it is unnecessary to have a problem. The rain is lovely and I will read novels life seems so meanderingly pleasant. I do nothing and will be joyful.