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 I had a particularly good day today---yesterday, today. 

In contrast.

The day before was...such a peculiar, bizarre, difficult, learning giving day, I may write about it sometime. It really was. 

But for now, I'll write about my good day.

A grace day.

It was such a soft, and loving day.

And everyone in it felt loving too.  

So many kind things.

I'm thankful for days that give back. Thankful for days where you can feel love being returned. And It feels good.

Spacious days.

Soft rain days.

Soft cloud days.

Soft moon days.

Soft music days.

Soft heart days.

Soft eyes, and soft words.

Where it's not too much in any direction.

Just right.

Spacious with enough room for everybody.

Room for everyone's hearts to voom in the way that they voom.

So nice.

 It was a day, where a poem came to me. So I wrote it down.

This is said poem. 

 

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  Do not worry, dear one.

 No matter where you go.

 The love we send.

  Will always grow.

                The love we inscribe, and etch in the sand, be it hearts, or wood, or on land.

Will always return.

In some way.

Like a message in a bottle.

It will find its home.

 Someday.

                The love you send, is not unlike like an element of the earth.

                Always changing form, an aroma, a leaf----its value is of greatest worth.

                Every raindrop that falls, every drop of dew that clings to a spider’s web, or a bird’s wing.

                Will rise up in the morning, flying back, with a song to sing.

               

 Every heart will find the place it once knew.

                Every little ray of sunlight, that shines into the dark.

Will always find its way back to you.

 

There is no hard shell, no place where love cannot find port.

                There is no good deed unseen, no love that does not return to its original start.

              

 So if you find.

  You feel stuck.

                And every drop of love you give, falls on hard hearts.

                If every bit of grace you give, seems to make others have a bigger shield.

                If every bit of love you send, seems like it comes back with thorns.

Look for the roses.

Look past eyes that scorn.

For if what you have to give is real.

It will always be reborn.

      Look for the harvest. Don’t despair.

Love is inscribed everywhere.

               

Hold out your hands, and keep open wide your heart.

Love does not diminish.

                It never decays or dies, nor stops nor starts.

 

It always finds a place to live.

 It always finds somewhere to give.

 

And from ashes of all the woe.

Rises love.

Again.

It grows.

                If all the flowers you ever sent, went to noses that could not smell, and did not see the good you meant.

                If all the cups of water went to souls who could not feel the love of your well.

                If every soft hand you gave, was slapped and bruised, and you stumbled and fell.

Take heart.

For God is a God that will always repurpose, and make new.

                Always there is something born anew.

                Always a way.

                It is always true.

                So give your gifts, all you can.

                To good soil, and hard, dry land.

                Plant your seeds, where'er you go.

                Be a poet of rebirth, and help things grow.

                Give your love.

                To those nearby.

                And the ones that are your hardest test, will help make your wings strong, so you can fly.

See that when you give, and give, and try your best.

                Are the things that help to make love endless.

                So send your love out

                Into God’s hands.

                Love will come back, an echo sweet.

                And you’ll feel your love again.

                Though it might take a few repeats. 

 

                Through every fold, it will find a way.

                Entering into every stronghold.

See, look.

It comes.

A message written somewhere everyday. 

Love will return.

 A harvest will come.

Something will show up.

Everything lost will find its home. 

 

God will remember you.

 For soon, the dawn comes.