Compassion
Perhaps the wing is already broken, or the shoes worn out and tired… do we know who lives inside the shell… anyway? With glistening eyes, who of us can see behind the smiling masquerade? Some heart cries and pleads for help, someone rolls over and pain transpires. Selfish acts crush souls; but time on earth is short! Ask yourself; why are we here?
And how can this happen that people trample flowers without seeing the beauty under their feet— this fragile fragrance that exists for the sake of joy? I pray that goodness prevails: and that whatever happens, what is honest and pure shines through. Because hurting another wounds the abuser herself — therefore I choose to forgive and send a kiss on the wind. Perhaps it will caress you lightly on your cheek.
/ Ingela