Love is short, forgetting is so long...

At 32, I am just now discovering Pablo Neruda and these words.  Oh, how I could have weeped to these words during the angst of my teen years and the heartbreaks in my twenties...  They would have been the perfect side dish to a fleece blanket or a glass of wine.  But... without the cloud of selfish tears, in the (relative) stability of my 30s, I truly see their beauty.  Thanks, Pablo.

Love and Light,


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