So, Have We Solved The Secret Of

Lost Love Is Still Love. It Takes A Different Form, That's All. You Can't See Their Smile Or Bring Them Food Or Tousle Their Hair Or Move Them Around A Dance Floor. But When Those Senses Weaken Another Heightens. Memory. Memory Becomes Your Partner. You Nurture It. You Hold It. You Dance With It.

Don't Let Our Outside Labels Or How Fervent We Look Or Zealous We Are Or How Righteous We Seem; That's Not How You Measure Yourself Against Other People. Everyone Is A Child Of God; If We Really Believed That, We'd Treat Each Other Better.

Detachment Doesn’t Mean You Don’t Let The Experience Penetrate You. On The Contrary, You Let It Penetrate You Fully. That’s How You Are Able To Leave It.

A Wind Blew, And The Sand Around His Drawing Scattered. He Wrapped His Fingers Inside His Wife's, And Father Time Rekindled A Connection He Had Only Ever Had With Her. He Surrendered To That Sensation And Felt The Final Drops Of Their Lives Touch One Another, Like Water In A Cave, Top Meets Bottom, Heaven Meets Earth. As Their Eyes Closed, A Different Set Of Eyes Opened, And They Rose From The Ground As A Shared South, Up And Up, A Sun And A Moon In A Single Sky.

"you Marked The Minutes," The Old Man Said. "but Did You Use Them Wisely? To Be Still? To Cherish? To Be Grateful? To Lift And Be Lifted?"