Met up with the dearest, little angel over the last weekend, but she was so, so sad.
She asked, in the sweetest of angel voices, how there can be so much love in the world, yet so few feel it. How there can be so much beauty, yet hardly anyone sees it. And how there can be so many miracles, yet most are ignored.
Poor thing.
So, I reminded her of something far more important. I reminded her that whether or not one knows of the love, they are still bathed in it. Whether or not they see the beauty, they still add to it. And whether or not they recognize the miracles, they are there and happen every single day.
Then, we both just beamed. Life is strange, but good
She asked, in the sweetest of angel voices, how there can be so much love in the world, yet so few feel it. How there can be so much beauty, yet hardly anyone sees it. And how there can be so many miracles, yet most are ignored.
Poor thing.
So, I reminded her of something far more important. I reminded her that whether or not one knows of the love, they are still bathed in it. Whether or not they see the beauty, they still add to it. And whether or not they recognize the miracles, they are there and happen every single day.
Then, we both just beamed. Life is strange, but good
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