No matter what happens to us, daffodils will bloom in the spring.
Men and women will fall in love and, sadly, out of love.
Inconsolable grief will still be inconsolable.
A broken heart will nonetheless keep beating one hundred thousand times a day.
No matter what happens to us, writers will write.
Painters will paint.
Three in the morning will still be three in the morning.
The door in our psyche we don’t want to walk through will still be just down the hall.
No matter what happens to us,
Life will hand us the invisible thread that connects us all;
Love will hand us the needle.
Warmly,
Tom Feltenstein
