Tired. In the face of closed doors and shuttered hearts.
Discouraged by disinterest. Low-grade resistance.
Some could care less about eternal realities.
It’s easy to feel like giving up.
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Tag: the Truth
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Ancient walls
Light falls. Through the archway. Across timeworn stones.
We sit in cool shade. Island breeze, soft. The old city, silent.
Footsteps echo in narrow passageways. Against ancient walls. In Malta.
Climbing uneven steps, we look out across a valley. Small villages scattered here and there. White houses. Flat roofs.
These stretch out to a defined edge. On the Mediterranean Sea.
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Matters of the heart
The conversation was one we had several times. “People have black hearts,” she would say. “People have rotten hearts.” She used the word that describes rotting fruit. Busuk.