Saturday,  January 22, 2022

         My expectations for each day should probably be completely without boundaries, for I have absolutely no hints about what might happen. Though I rarely realize it, a fresh, free-flowing world is made for me each moment, and it’s always as immeasurable as the sky. Who can really know what will happen in the next new moment? Life is like an endless wind that blows wherever it wishes and takes me along for the fun of it. My only expectations should be that the wind of life will keep whisking me along to somewhere and anywhere. I guess I should always be eager with expectancy, waiting for the curtain to be pulled back on another implausible moment, another wholly new world and life. I should be tense with expectation each moment, like a birthday boy opening the next in a never-ending line of gifts. Of course, these moment-by-moment gifts will not always make me ‘happy’, but they will definitely make me a new guy in a newly gifted world. That’s an expectation I can count on. 

A poem from a few years ago …

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