I came home last night to the inviting fragrance of freshly bathed flowers in full-bloom. And I couldn’t help but smile, both inwardly and out. Every year, spring permeates the air with its perfume as a reminder of this world’s unfailing tenderness, despite the harsh realities that accompany the consciously living. Springtime is Earth’s velvet touch, like a lover who ignites all the senses, which in turn stimulates the spirit. She is a fervent beating heart that feeds all our extremes and everything in-between. Or at least that’s the way I came to see her at such a late hour, when the city was drunk and drenched. I paused in gratitude to ingest another deep breath, eyes shut so that I could see the same tranquil view of everything my heart sees, a gentle panorama of life below the surface, where a constant and brutal awakening settles into calm decisive action.

Was it a dream? I don’t know. But, I slept soundly. And I remember it well.

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