it’s scarce up north. Sunsets beneath a down-covered duvet of clouds are more prominent these days. There’s a bit of sunlight left as I strolled (others sprinted) along this pond, that can barely recall summer. Star struck by this infrequent blazing sunlit horizon, I consumed every last drop of sundown. I envision in some near-future realm that I radiate as much light as this end-of-the-day scene to survive the bone-chilling months ahead, to spark everyone in my path to entice one to marvel at this reflection and trigger a spirit of discernment, which also seems to be in short supply. It’s universally known that there is value in what is scarce. Most of what we occupy ourselves with in the heavy months is preservation of food, warmth, what about our souls? What if we were to practice harvesting this glorious light and renew ourselves in this grace to resist the conformity to the constant psynado of daily newscast entwined with dispirited feelings but instead transform yourself within. Your knowledge lies there.

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