by Glenn Fairman 3/22/17
Who can fully understand the rhythms of life and death, and how they weave their spells upon us – consigning us to the depths and lifting us up into the clouds – often within a twinkling of the mind’s eye? In a sterile wasteland of parched flint, against all odds, a rose has broken through and stands as testament to something greater than the world — whose power overshadows necessity and despair. How frequently the door that closes in our faces drives us into the arms of something we should never have expected — something beautiful beyond all human measure.
Glenn Fairman writes from Highland, Ca.
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