Yes. But Sad's Alright. Sad's Just Apart

Everybody's Got The Seam Of Goodness In Them, Kit," Said Grandpa. "just A Matter Of Whether It Can Be Found And Brought Out Into The Light.

There's Light And Joy, But There's Also Darkness All Around And We Can Be Lost In It.

There's Light And Joy, But There's Also Darkness All Around And We Can Be Lost In It.

Books. They Are Lined Up On Shelves Or Stacked On A Table. There They Are Wrapped Up In There Jackets, Lines Of Neat Print On Nicely Bound Pages. They Look Like Such Orderly, Static Things. Then You, The Reader Come Along. You Open The Book Jacket, And It Can Be Like Opening The Gates To An Unknown City, Or Opening The Lid Of A Treasure Chest. You Read The First Word And You're Off On A Journy Of Exploration And Discovery.

Then What Shall I Write? I Can't Just Write That This Happened Then This Happened Then This Happened To Boring Infinitum. I'll Let My Journal Grow Just Like The Mind Does, Just Like A Tree Or Beast Does, Just Like Life Does. Why Should A Book Tell A Tale In A Dull Straight Line? Words Should Wander And Meander. They Should Fly Like Owls And Flicker Like Bats And Slip Like Cats. They Should Murmur And Scream And Dance And Sing.