Puddles

PuddlesPuddles, glorious puddles. Big small, shallow deep. Puddles be everywhere.

We sometimes act like puddles. I sometimes feel like a puddle. Alone. Separate from our neighbours. Chilling over here, while they’re over there. Little islands of individuality.

We forget that as a living, breathing species we are connected—we are all one.

We must realize there is no separation. It is but an illusion. We are not puddles, but one giant ocean. All together, all connected, in this world, in this lifetime: we share.

What we do to each other we do to ourselves.

We are not separate. Even if Trump builds a wall.

Heart

The only puddles in my future are my collected tears I might shed. After reading Michael Moore’s ‘Morning after to-do list‘ I feel better. Let’s do better. Let’s be better.

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