In the dead of night a veil is drawn allowing the ‘spirits’ to roam the emptiness revealing what awaits, interpreted by sensitive receptors, often the dreaded.


There is that age old wonderment of the hereafter known as Death. How will it come? Will there be a struggle, or a happenstance where resignation is the call? I am not one to succumb to the struggles and depart-by-choice, and I may not be the type to stay on priding unknown fears to departing.


Still, there are disarming reflections from the day’s observations of those in dire straights, whether from birth discomforts, accidents/assaults, or disease and war experiences I’ve been fortunate to survive/evade, thus far. Allusions to ‘what ifs’ swirl and parade from the darkness through my mind, which I am able to review and allow passage hoping to remain free of their untoward influences.


Forgetful sleep is sought in lieu of comforting comprehension as I may not yet be ready, being in need of courage and/or in need of Divine Guidance. Tomorrow…




3e. Sleeping Quarters During Balcony Replacement

Forced   Accommodations



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