I will wring from my heart and mind the words to a song, a song that sings the spirit and love of women and men who change dreams and convictions into a world in which we all can live. One verse tells of a man of palettes and paints who brushed and colored a world where we can laugh when we are happy and a world where we can also cry when we are sad. One verse tells of a woman of wood and stone who carved and shaped a world where we love you if you are and a world where we also love you if you are not. Still another verse tells of a man and a woman of girls and boys who tended and taught a world where arms hold you when you are weak and a world where arms also reach out for you when you are strong. If ever a wall kept me from the wind, I will sing for the hands that built it. If ever a fire kept me from the cold, I will sing for the hands that sparked it. I will sing like a man who has been pulled gently back from the edge, like a man who has seen beauty so fierce he had to close his eyes, like a man who has laughed until it hurt and like a man who has cried until I didn't. I want to write the human song. I want to sing you all.
But no one can write this song. No one can sing it. Some things only everyone can do.
Hello, friends. Won't you tell me how you are?
Later. Love.
P. S. - As requested, here is a (poorly scanned) picture of me "at that age" for comparison. I'm either 20 or 21 in this picture, probably close to the age my dad was in the picture of him below. River is only 14 in the picture of him below. Thanks for stopping by.
