Such face of youthful years messes with the soft flesh and vulnerable bones of yours. You sit on top of a table, or a chair perhaps, memories of the dream tend to be estimates. You saw the all the more youthful faces of your three girls. Tears rushed in painful streams. Suddenly, puzzling, you asked for forgiveness, for reasons unknowable but understood. The four silhouettes danced and entwined even more in youth, softness, and vulnerablity. They bathed in the rhythm and exploded with the daylight.
Tomorrow comes today.
Now is the forthcoming of showing up with aliveness and blessing all with presence. Take my hand, complement, like how the wind passes through the gaps of my fingers and the strands of my hair, and let our togetherness be. Let love be, encompassing all dimensions, let love be, appearing in all manifestations. The sky, the sea, and the sand will dance and entwine, horizons will fade, for reasons unknowable but understood. The rhythm rushes within as we tessellate.