These cuts, these bruises, this bitter wine of sorrow. They come wrapped in a promise. The story does not end this way.

And I am lucky to be in the midst of it.

Hope is the unexpected sunrise, the comic turn that leaves me rolling in laughter on the floor.

And somedays you take my hand and look in my eyes and tell me of love and show me devotion.

Something deep inside of me calls out to something deep inside of you. It leaps at your mere presence. It dances at the sound of your voice.

I could declare thing upon thing with mere words. But they would fall flat at your feet. They would melt and prove false in the warmth of this joy.

I have traveled a lifetime to this moment…and still, it catches me off balance…me…who sees EVERYTHING and whose footing has always been of the highest importance.

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