A perfect stranger is someone you've never met, never talked to, been acquainted with--most likely never seen... And those circumstances are what make the stranger perfect--the complete lack of interaction. But with that uncontaminated, unaltered, clean-slated view of an individual, who are they to you but perfect? Let them be perfect. And perhaps allow that same courtesy to those you know all too well--without judgement or history--let them, in your eyes, be perfect. Mankind would be well served by such grace of thought.    

Happiness is the permission to Love. ~RCW

A Night of Repose

I call them friends--the people that give validity to your life--the people who remind you that you're good and kind--with laughter, full-bodied embraces, companionship--the good things. I imagine someone kind once discovered such an essential form of love or perhaps someone wise who realized the world is much easier to brave with a hand to hold or at least someone to question the merit of the crazy things you say and do and permit them nonetheless.  It has been a quiet night of repose and the morning will have my gratitude, the night my bowed head and prayer.