The Blue Notebooks

So many things lie out there, beyond the reach. Each hand reaches out to touch and to hold, hoping for the feel of some human warmth against the cold. Each eye opens, wanting to see the light of possibility pulling the day from the darkness. Each heart beats with the need to go on living against all the outrages an indifferent and unknowing universe ranges against it.

Each morning is a beginning made possible by the night before and the times that have gone by. All those times are gone now, o...