I change, I am the same

The clouds change. The seasons pass over our woods and fields in their slow and regular procession, and time is gone before you are aware of it. In one sense, we are always traveling and traveling as if we did not know where we were going. In another sense, we have already arrived.

Thomas Merton

Resolution

The will falters yet again, so soon after being rebuilt; the drinker awakes that night in a pool of guilt; the farce continues.

O Subtle Visitor, O Night Magic. Let me leave my broken will on this altar I’m building for you with shaking hands; give me yours.

Dawn is born in trepidation. The dove is thrown over the glistening water, flapping in panic. It remembers its element, regains poise, and gives itself up to the winds.