Friday 25th February
Day 310
I’ve been seeing how my mind is like a boat on a roiling river - my thoughts its cargo. When I’m being a heavy gun boat all war breaks out and judgement bullets fly thick and fast, killing first and ricocheting back to me - everyone wounded.
But when I fling out handfuls of clear white rose petals, only cheeks are brushed by their softness and the load on my boat is infinitely lighter.
Every moment I see how I can choose to share a kalashnikov or a rose. And how much sweeter is the perfume of love.
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