The future is out there,
like a horizon covered by early morning fog.
I peer into it,
attempting to identify
shapes in the mist;
I know I cannot.
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The simple joy
of simply being
in the moment
in the light.
I am a fixer;
wherever there is a challenge,
asked to address it or not,
my mind busily seeks a solution.
Two trees; one still adolescent, the other ancient.
I place my palm, caressing the youngling’s bark;
so smooth, yet a little cold.
May the light shine on all beings, living and inanimated;
What makes me happy?
Within me rests a treasure trove,
ever-pulsing in symphony with my heart.
Concealed and guarded by resistance,
it trembles with volcanic vigor.