Once upon the time when you were young, I showed you that words are musical. Magical. “Use them wisely and always true,” I said, “and they will come back to you.”
Words sown on fertile soil bear fruit, forever spreading their fecundity, like a Honeysuckle vine, far reaching and uncontainable. Words dropped on dead ears bear nothing but dessication. No beauty grows without light.
Your words are the path you light for others, the trail you leave for your self. Ahead of you, and behind you, leave light.
LBM 10/5/2020 (for ST)