Isn’t interesting how much fear we hide even from ourselves? I think that if we’re mentally healthy people, this world and living in it is a terrifying experience. The thought of our inevitable death alone is enough to humble anyone, if they let it. Some people are stronger, and some are weaker. Some pretend to be strong, so they don’t appear weak. That is a dangerous path. When you start deriving your self identity from the thoughts of others, you become as weak as a person can be. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be angry. We have to accept these realities, and if we do, I think we can begin to accept each other more thoroughly. We just have to realize that we all have control over our own lives and our own selves. Look deep into your being and seek out the truth. Let it guide you, because lies are stumbling blocks no matter how you slice it. The sooner we become more comfortable with the truth and the telling of it, the sooner we can actually deal with our problems in a healthy way. I think a lot of violence, depression, anger, etc. could be avoided if we made honesty more of a priority in our lives. And the truth is, we will fail in this quest from time to time, but it's one of those things that gets easier the more you do it. And you will feel much better about yourself if, when you realize you are wrong in a particular moment, you are able to openly admit your error out loud. It doesn't feel good in the moment to be sure, but pulling those weeds up as soon as they sprout will always help ensure a more healthy garden. There is an idea that everyone lies, and that might even be true, but by repeating that mantra throughout the generations, all we do is justify our own dishonesty, because hey, everybody's doing it. Do not be afraid. You might lose friends or even family over honesty, but sacrifice is a fact of life. And who's to say that your influence won't open their own eyes, leading you both down a path to a better relationship in the end?

Immediately after posting "Embrace", my wife was struck with a nightmare. They are rare for her, and it seemed to deliver a message of an evil child who was bound in our car, with which we drove through a blizzard. A disembodied voice whispered, "He's already *******." Whether true or all in my head, it seemed to directly respond to my own thoughts and the poem I'd written.

After pondering this situation, I quickly wrote "The Greatest Miracle", and this is closely tied to the previous poem. I didn't revise this poem at all, preferring to leave it in this raw form from some kind of inspiration. Life is certainly mysterious, and love is powerful. Could it be true?

I'm looking for the spirit of forgiveness. Not for myself, but for the worst of us. Revenge is not the answer, and there is no justice in torture. There is no peace in pain. There is no love in hurt. So the answer must be something else- something much more difficult. Something we'd think impossible. But what is that old saying?

For my mother.