Not much to be said, really. Just another day. Floating on this beautiful infinity in the trembling hands of every forgotten sunset. The world is alive, entirely being true. Nothing more than every poet says. What they hate you for. What they try to say you are wrong about. The beauty of being flawed. Immaculate. Made in the image of the Divine One that is everywhere and yet nowhere. Like an unexplainable oneness. Living without any idea of separation.
Good luck, friends.