too late?
at what point is a story over?
when is it "too late"?
i think as long as there is breath,
as long as there is any light left in your eye - then, there is hope.
no matter how horrific the devastation,
no matter how pervasive the damage -
i believe that - as long as there is the smallest ember of desire still burning -
as long as there is any remaining warmth in the body - at even the darkest moment of midnight - there is hope.
at 52, i am learning that fairy tales do come true.
that life does have a 2nd, a 3rd, even a 4th act in the play.
my life is so unlikely. my path - if it were not my own - would be unbelievable to me.
i am happy.
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