Note: This reflection is dedicated to my mom, Elizabeth Dorothea Sorensen, in this, her 97th year of life.
Twilight fills the sky in delicate etchings of trees reaching towards her opalescent hues. This in
between space lends itself in little openings, inviting what may come. A small hush follows in silence. I pause to notice the wonder of it all, captivated by magical luminaries that are ever changing before my eyes.
How keen my senses are to the colding air, sounds quieting and the feeling sacred. It is like this when we encounter anothers soul with a listening heart. A small space opens where walls crumble and you can really see; at least for a moment.
Peace
I
marvel at people who are not in love with life.
of peace,
be rippling softly,
twilight, you will see white sails.
come from there.

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