Maybe At The Heart Of All Our

I'm Trying To Listen To My Past, Listen To What's Most Deeply Going On Inside Myself, My Creative Set Of Fictional Characters, A Fictional World - To Listen To That World, To Search.

Here And There And Not Just In Books We Catch Glimpses Of A World Of Once Upon A Time And They Lived Happily Ever After, Of A World Where There Is A Wizard To Give Courage And A Heart, An Angel With A White Stone That Has Written On It Our True And Secret Name, And It Is So Easy To Dismiss It All That It Is Hardly Worth Bothering To Do. ... But If The World Of The Fairy Tale And Our Glimpses Of It Here And There Are Only A Dream, They Are One Of The Most Haunting And Powerful Dreams That The World Has Ever Dreamed.

. . . [t]o Live Not With Hands Clenched To Grasp, To Strike, To Hold Tight To A Life That Is Always Slipping Away The More Tightly We Hold It, But . . . To Live With The Hands Stretched Out Both To Give And Receive With Gladness.

Remember Jesus Of Nazareth, Staggering On Broken Feet Out Of The Tomb Toward The Resurrection, Bearing On His Body The Proud Insignia Of The Defeat Which Is Victory, The Magnificent Defeat Of The Human Soul At The Hands Of God.

That's Five Friends, One Each For Jesu's Wounds, And Godric Bears Their Mark Still On What's Left Of Him As In Their Time They All Bore His On Them. What's Friendship, When All's Done, But The Giving And Taking Of Wounds?