Stroke and a Path back.

Love lit the path back a few years ago. I found some thoughts and I remembered the journey back.

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path

Twelve nights passed in strange rooms, in strange beds, surrounded by pumping machines and med chemicals I will never learn to pronounce. There was no Joni, no Jimi or Jim, just the wheezing and ticking of odd boxes, trimmed in the slow flashing lights of vacant boxes (red, yellow, red, green, red , green with no sequence apparent) and some vacant promise of a vacant nurse, to tired to answer another question of another weak spirit.

Of another day, another night, another heavy early morning of silence filled with too many fears and too much silence. And the silence and the wheeze wheeze and tick tick of the boxes, draped with, tubes hanging dicklimp lifeless vines, disappearing into a body, once yours.

You dared not move.

There were the faces who could come, some you knew and some you had never seen, but they took the time to fill you with warm and remind you that you were still a you. Some faces were oddly missing, but you drew the warmth from those that wrote and called and left the oddly missing alongside in the dusts of sorrow, left those choosing to remain in the shadows, in the silence.

Remember, we don’t get many spins on this Merry-go-Round and telling someone you love them, or even if you are in their thoughts, adds a spark of life. And what more can we give to anyone more important than a spark of life?

Nothing. OK, little.

I thank so many for sharing that spark, because without the love of an Evil Bunny, and the desert night filled blazing with a million stars spark around black overhead, it would have been hard to find my way back to these familiar sheets and brought me back from the edge of the dark place. I was not ready to journey towards on my next path.

As some old Hippie would say, Spread the Love, Spread the Love. As I get truly closer, this love has never meant so much to me and each tick reminds me how much it really is important.

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