Your pain is a school unto itself–– and your joy a lovely temple.

At one end of the continuum known as history are first-time events that have generated notable measures of public recognition due to either a positive or negative impact.

Like a Passover Poet gliding from house to house and from trembling soul to trembling soul the wind scribbled sonnets of first time love and weeping haikus of last hours on earth.

Hearts rebuilt from hope resurrect dreams killed by hate.

Time (again, Time) like the soul, wears many faces, many bodies and climates and attitudes. The past is one face, the present a second and the future yet another.

You were born a child of light’s wonderful secret— you return to the beauty you have always been.

Where humanity sowed faith, hope, and unity, joy’s garden blossomed.