I probably compliment you too often, I don’t want my words to lose their value. I want them all to be worth something to you. So here’s some light honesty.

When you write, you go forth with a net of brilliance, and catch thousands of brilliant creatures, while I sit in my rowboat and wait for the right fish to drift by. I’m really not sure we can judge who prepares them better since we’re both vegetarian now, but I think the ingredients are what truly matter, and you certainly have a larger variety.

When you write, you remind of a hurricane. You blow through with ferocity, and nothing looks the same when you’re finished. The best I can hope to do is lay one or two bricks on the foundation of my work today, maybe I’ll get more done tomorrow.

When you write, you remind me of an architect. Your creations are expansive, and beautiful, and I could get lost exploring the corridors for days. I am glad that despite this, you can still see the effort I put in to building my humble shack. It brings me a lot of joy when you leave your palace, and join me for tea here.

Have you ever wondered why the sun’s light can warm you so tenderly but burn so hurtfully.

I’m not talking about the sun.

Have you ever wandered around a park alone and felt tranquil, yet filled with fright as soon as the sun disappears.

I’m not talking about the sun.

Have you ever been sundered from the sun and felt refreshed in the cool wind, yet felt longing for the warmth of its rays when you’ve been absent too long.

I’m not talking about the sun.

I’m talking about him.

You have been revolving around him for too long and now you depend on his warmth to survive.

He helps you grow, but also lets you shrivel up like an orchid on a Texas summer day.

He hurts you and you heal physically, but mentally the scars burn brightly.

He leaves you and the coldness is exhilarating, but a minute more and you freeze.

I yearn for the sun when it is gone too long.

Yet I wish for the clouds when it stays too long.

The sun can be your friend, yet it can also be yout enemy.

It is your decision as to which one it will be.

Side Note: This is for you to interpret it any way you wish, but I saw the relationship of a single mother and her young son navigating the troubles that life brings.

I walked.

I walked for quite some time.

In the Sahara, I plodded beneath a searing sun and my skin grew dry as leather. Whipped by sand carried on a savage wind, it was burned and scarred.

I wandered through the Amazon amid torrential rainstorms and was dragged down into a bog of mud on the path.

My feet slid aimlessly over ice in the Himalays and I reached out but my hands were scabbed and callous and they could not steady me.

I lost my way time and again in the Taiga forest as I fled a pack of wolves silently stalking me through the snow.

I looked up while crossing the Alps and saw a vulture circling overhead. He watched, waiting for me to stumble and fall from the narrow goat trail that followed the mountain's rocky ledge.

I roamed through the Savannah, hiding in the tall grass when a lion gnashed his teeth at my frailty. In the distance, I heard the barbarous sound of hyenas laughing at my ineptitude.

I strayed over the Tundra and cried out for help. But a cold, cruel gale stole my words, and left me standing alone with burning lungs and cracked, bleeding lips.

I have searched from the depths of the oceans to the highest peaks on earth. I have followed the north star from the poles to the equator, from the Pacific to the Atlantic. And it has led me back where I began.

I walked for quite some time. And my burden was heavy. And the path was difficult.

I walked but my strength, which was never my own, has waned. My feet are unsure of the way and my heart has grown too weak and weary to lead them aimlessly, any longer. Shadows of doubt, fear and despair slow my journey, hiding the path I walk. My trembling soul is seeking, but my eyes are closed and it searches in darkness. Perhaps I am afraid to see where this path will lead. Maybe I fear the brilliance of the light I am pursuing. Or perchance, I have grown so accustomed to the night that I fear the pain of opening my eyes and facing the day.

When finally, my legs buckle beneath me and I fall to my knees, there you lift me up. Though my thoughts have wandered from the purpose you lay on me, when finally, my face is buried in the dust, there you raise me up.

From the lowest valley, you carry me to the top of a hill and you point to the tree. When I bow down before it at last, the light of heaven bursts through clouds of lies and shines bright on Calvary.

I walked. I searched. But no matter how far I go, I will never find that which does not exist. I will not find happiness outside of you.

Your tender hand lifts my chin towards you and your smile on me. I open my eyes and feel the warmth of your mercy and grace. Born again of fire and water, you give me new life. Hands and feet strong in you. A mind renewed with infinite wisedom from you. A heart overflowing with love of you.

I walk still. With my hand held in yours, you lead me in your footsteps and the burden of this journey is light and easy. I walk with you...and I am happy.