Being the Change, Firefly Dreams, California's Fallen Soldiers, Vista Strawberry Festival, Poe Ballantine
2:30 p.m., May 23
The sky is falling down and the harder it falls, the more calm I become. Like a man swept away in a river but calmed by his life vest universe in which he has much hope. Though the circumstance seems bleak, there is a solace in greater, unknown. All the many degrees of life's sphere that our eyes will never undress. But a swift shoulder to reflect light, and dance cleverly under shadows becoming that elusive lure turned lore and turned away again once more. Nothing sad ever lasts, but can we say the same of joy? If it is not the river or that shoulder, then yes. But forever joy remains. And now I sleep. I am too tired to write any more.