But Sons Are A Different Matter To

The Wind Picks Up. It Sends Leaves Scurrying For Cover Until A Softer Breeze Blows Through, Settling Them Down Again As If To Say, Shhh, There, There, It's All Right. One Leaf Still Dances In The Air. It Spins Higher And Higher, Defying Gravity And Logic, Stretching For Something Just Out Of Reach. It Shall Have To Fall, Of Course. Eventually. But For Now, I Hold My Breath, Willing It To Keep Going, Taking Comfort In Its Struggle.

I Love You For Who You Are, Not Who The World Thinks You Should Be.

Ain't That A Sight? With All The Things We Know And Learn, We Still Ain't Touched The Big Mysteries -- Where We Come From, Where We Go Next, Why We Even Her. And When Something Truly Miraculous Happens, We Run And Hide In Our Caves. We Deny.

True Affection And Love Have A Purity Which Shall Always Prevail Over Bigotry.

Instead, I Try To Adjust To The Dawn, Letting The Tears Fall Where They May, Because It Is Morning; It Is Morning And There Is So Much To See.