I lost everything, over and over. I restarted with nothing, over and over. You took every chance to use your subtle knife, over and over. Yet I learned a little each time, kept those mental post-it notes safe and sound. And so each painful punishment became another lesson, another chance to use the tiny fragments of light etched into what was left of my brain, fragments that in time would unite to become what I am today. And so, what can you do now? For I am the alchemist that turns loss into victory; the golden one with the golden touch. And so, regardless of the length of the road, my destination is assured. Should you ever find my secret, see the key in the rain, you will have converted to my way of being. It is love that wins, and if you look back over the eons, there was always a helping hand for anyone who asked, those cold and broken hallelujahs.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), August 29, 2018.