I've been losing keys as long as I've been using them like perfect clarity, a key won't stay. If you can keep it in your pocket hey, you'll open doors the same way every time. But lose the key and you'll be sitting on the step or emptying your purse. So when I write I take my wallet out and scatter coins to see if perfect clarity could have been hiding there. I mean, I had it yesterday! Why have I lost it now? I really, really need it for this door!
this is the blank page called the rest of your life pick up the pen and write the old story on those brittle yellow pages will no longer do for this crisp place that is the future you will write new stories for, in dark red ink from veins of gold that can no longer be the limits of your vast imagination in the future there is love unending, there is joy unbounded, there is pain with soft enfolding wings and tears that streak your face but do not run into the cup called shame but water those white fields with scarlet poppies where the golden veins of morning light the sky and you pick up your pen and write