I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible.

And the smoke rose slowly, slowly,  Through the tranquil air of morning,  First a single line of darkness,  Then a denser, bluer vapor,  Then a snow-white cloud unfolding,  Like the tree-tops of the forest,  Ever rising, rising, rising,  Till it touched the top of heaven,  Till it broke against the heaven,  And rolled outward all around it.

Because if she let go of her grief even for a minute it would only hit her harder when she bumped into it again.

The world is no Paradise but the Heart is... If it is Pure surely Wonders Can and will Unfold

Written By C.E Robertson

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