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(I love a picture of ruins. Evidence that where something grand once stood, something beautiful, yet broken, still remains. Still abides…)

The enigmatic soul is forever restless; unable, or perhaps unwilling, to settle down. Accept.

Forever searching for that place where hope isn’t necessary, and dreams can become forgotten, unburdened from the soul that carries them.

The soul simply seeks acceptance. Peace. To practice gratitude for the dreams that survived and were fulfilled. But hope…remains insistent.

The mind can be soothed, but not changed. The heart can be massaged, but not mended. The tendency for future-gazing, and the tenacious spirit of the hope that fuels it, refuses to be stifled. With every new morning, it arrives, even if tears threatened to drown it the night before.

Faith stands steadily by. Unassuming. Unimposing. Waiting. Subliminaly inviting the soul to tether itself to it.

Never judging a wavering or unsteady – even angry – soul. Faith remains a net prepared to catch the fall.

Love permeates all aspects of the soul open to it. Once it has broken through, it is longed for and never forgotten. An unrelenting thirst to have and to give away.

Hope remains. Brutal, unrelenting, and maybe even foolish. Faith beckons to be held fast with a quiet, extended hand. Love, looming over all, stands steady. A reminder of commitments made, vows pledged, an icon of both history and a desired future.

Hope, faith, and love. They abide. Stubbornly. As though they had linked arms. The same 3 that ignite feelings and activate fluttering hearts, also have the strength, substance, and resolve to bind up the heart that is broken.

They abide.

In spite of all things, they abide.