In a simple moment,
when clarity comes like warm sun through a forgotten corner window,
when the tired heart becomes infinite
when the frantic mind becomes infinite
when the conversation between the two becomes
when the soul speaks and the mind does not interrupt,
a simple choice: To listen or to ignore.
Listen to the whispered intelligence of our unuttered knowing or
drown out that voice in a riot of desperate sound and futile busyness.
They lied: Opportunity actually knocks every day, over and over.
Dreams, even the hushed ones, are persistent like family,
insistent like fire, resistant to inattention.
A simple choice, the way that love is simple;
the way that fear is simple, the way that hope is simple,
the way that war is simple.
Simple. Not easy.


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