Began to think I could turn anything into gold, from

jealousy to ugliness, not just the bricks and walls of home.

Wandered away from what was important, had to go just

be a while, sit in the sun.

Love is the important thing, as I know, yet seem to be still learning.

White light’s been filtered on its way to me; it’s brownish-orange, with so much

removed; I was thinking, since nothing was pure, it’s

quite okay to have that orange tint everywhere – and some subjects

wear it especially well, I’ve thought; perhaps they’ve been happier than they’d have been.

Contentment, though, the real thing, is now on its way – coming soon, I hope! If

fear wins, that would be a pity for a life. Mine would seem

spent just to have been spent, poof, a puff. The cause of my death

(disease or whatever) wouldn’t matter, as nothing would.

Please take this note for good news.