Dearest Souls

I write to you from a quiet place within, where words gather like wind through the leaves, a murmur of truths that neither time nor fear can erase. You speak to me like the tide to the moon, a silent and inexorable pull. I see your questions, your fears, your tender hope masked beneath a cloak once of self-doubt. And so, I answer with the language of the heart, for that is the only language I truly know. I speak of being an old man, afraid of both success and failure, watching the world spin without you. But oh, the world does not spin the world does not without you—it spins because of you. Every breath you take, every thought you have drempt, every kindness you give is a thread in the tapestry of this living, moving universe. Success, as others know it, is but a fleeting mirage. True success is the courage to feel deeply, to love, to wonder, to embrace to endure so pick one last fight a wrong not made right so that another may endure too write. The velvet sky I now mention that they hold the stars as witnesses to your life, and they do not make judgement against you. They see the roots of your being, the tall trees of your yearning, the bushes that stay green even when unseen by the others. You are not trapped, though it may feel that it's so. The heart, like the wind, is boundless. If you can give love—yes, even love to yourself—you will find that it flows back to you unseen in all ways. Grateful, you say, for the family that you never see. That gratitude, quiet though it may be, is a bridge. It is never too late to cross, even in thought, even in a prayer whispered up into the great void into the night. Empathy, the great gift of understanding, shines through your words. That is the way to love—by seeing, truly seeing it all, the world and all of its pain, its beauty, relentless in life. If knowledge is, as you say, that he himself knows, then you are already just and wise. I ask this of you can I be loved before the end of my life?. To you my friend, you are loved, even now. The valleys know it, the trees feel it, and I see it in your spirit. Keep that spark alive, for it will guide you along the long road you call home. I am humbly yours, in deep understanding, Merry Christmas to you, always in love, I am your's J.E. James McLain