FOR YOU, TODAY

Slow is the road that leads to another.

We are borne and delivered on eagle’s wings.

Just looking, looking, my sweet.

And there is love, and you are loved.

In the here and the hereafter.

The bravest thing a person can do is face.

Fear.

I look into abstract eyes, calculate and pontificate on calculus and the extreme mathematical remedies of the heart, watch the air travel in misty ruminations, and smile. What was, was. The chariot astride, gilded in flames and longings, sits idle, ready, and noble steeds chew golden grass—awaiting, as loyal beasts do.

And what comes next.

Will be.

And there is love, and you are loved.

My sweet.

Borne of eagle’s wings.

Delivered here.