Relatively speaking I'm happy.
And relatively speaking, I'm okay.

"Relatively speaking" is a bullshit term.

Why is it I only feel close to God on overcast autumn days? And even then, it's only for a moment. And it feels like what I suppose we all pretend home should be, before we grew up and messed up and hated what we became.

(Between you and me, I don't think we ever knew what home felt like-it's just some made up thing for nostalgia's sake.)

Today I am a sailor
searching for a swallow,
to assure my tired heart
I'm navigating home.

Right now, there's really just nothing to say.

The ending of summer
caused the sun to cast shadows early,
and the orange glow was just begining
as we were leaving.

It's suiting, don't you think? Everything is very suiting.

Does God play sad music to fit appropriately with our current situations?
Does He sit with pen in hand and lights dimmed while writing our epitaphs?