If somebody read me the script of my life, I’d think they were nuts, keep my distance.

Amazing Grace was given me in moments of dismay, when friends were scarce, and skies were gray, and hope had gone astray.

I sit inside my silence, not even awake, maybe, waiting patiently for the cocoon to open, not eager, not afraid. I wait.

You wake up to your fate in pain, eyes burning in a veil of tears, in disbelief.

As you get old you start pondering on the meaning of words like purpose, or love, or fate, or free will, and they haunt you with their reverberating nature, they turn up the dial on your mind until your hair hurts, they tilt your compass.