There’s no moon out here tonight. It seems almost pitch black — and that feels appropriate.
Because of the street lights and porch lights of my quiet suburban street, the sky looks totally dark from my front porch. I know there are no clouds tonight, though, so the stars have to be there.
The glow of all these dim ambient lights covers up the pinpricks which represent a million burning infernos of light and heat in the distance.
But the light and heat of those stars seem impossibly far away right now. As much as I wish I could feel the heat and see the light, my heart feels the cold distance and knows that it reflects the emptiness of my heart — and the distance between my cold heart and warm love.
I touched real love a little while ago. Just for a moment. It was an accident. But I touched it for a moment — and it was warm and bright and colorful — yet it was just an illusion that I could not hold onto.
But that brief touch has me looking for light and warmth as I sit alone in the darkness after midnight.
My heart needs to know where love is now.

Why are killing, maiming people elsewhere called moral, ‘legal’?
Self-compassion is difficult when harsh inner judge condemns you
I don’t understand YouTube fame, but I’m drawn toward it anyway
In a saner world, we would never hear a word about Jussie Smollett
In other news, donations keep pouring in to feed the monkeys
Will the last journalist to leave newspaper business turn off lights?
I love my iPad, but I suspect that books are better for ‘deeper’ learning
We’re more like other animals than we like to admit to anyone