I was in this new town
And came across this picture.
I stopped because I loved it;
Around me, the world became
The picture,
The day took on its watercolor,
Its tone and hues;
And from the sky rolled waves of healing.
I wondered if the picture was part of
A world already so good,
Or if the picture made it good, the threads
Of parchment, emanating like a tune
Heard from a house,
A passing room.

I saw that life is but the emotions
Which flow through us, our perception’s
Colored by our thoughts, the notes from the room,
Receptive or neglected as we walk — 
And I’ve made it through a lot of shit; we all have.
But today felt healing,
And I don’t know if it was the picture,
But it played a significant part,
A picture stumbled upon in a town I didn’t know,
For the sky felt inescapably beautiful,
As did the people I passed and talked to.

The mellow wind of the coming night nearly brought me to tears.
It’s love, the drifting grey clouds and
The smell of damp flowers,
Love in waves of healing.

Time heals our wounds.

We just gotta keep going.