Morning. The light
comes later in this season of my sadness, autumn. I want to believe that spring follows winter; I want to believe it, yet these days I cannot see that far into the distance. The light dims and my heart shrinks. Cold winter is coming, and keeps coming on.
You'd think the small joys are enough, the tiny jewels of the day. That's what I preach, yet sometimes that's not what I find in my heart. I suppose you'd call a fellow like that something of a hypocrite. I am something of a hypocrite then.
It helps to recognize, on regular occasion, that one is neither the saint he thinks he is, nor the sinner.
We preach, perhaps in the hope that our hearts might hear, and so feel.
Posted by: poor_mad_peter | October 08, 2007 at 08:18 AM
I think you're right, Peter. It is as if I am saying, "Buck up, little cowboy." And sometimes it does work. Sometimes, over the long run, it pulls me back on the road.
Posted by: Tom Montag | October 08, 2007 at 08:38 AM