Open window

Image Credit: David Goehring

The years, the months, the days, and the hours have flown by my open window. Here and there an incident, a towering moment, a naked memory, an etched countenance, a whisper in the dark, a golden glow these and much more are the woven fabric of the time I have lived. What I have written is but a fleeting intimation of the outside of what one man sees and may tell about the path he walks. No one shares the secret of a life; no one enters into the heart of the mystery. There are telltale signs that mark the passing of one's appointed days. Always we are on the outside of our story, always we are beggars who seek entrance to the kingdom of our dwelling place. 

~ Howard  Thurman