Inwardly free of sorrow, the sun radiates its fullness to the sheltering morning as the verdicts of wisdom shine forth and the dull-wittedness of the deceptive is revealed in the sudden early light of summer speeding into spring, and the location of dawn on the eastern horizon inches to its maximum point in the land of the midnight sun. I wake from a solid sleep with the aching bones of old age hinting at my youthful mind that I, too, am approaching that point where the fullness of life turns back to glide towards the grave and the pigeons of morning celebrate the alternating sun and cloud and wind and rain as one journey ends and another begins, as poetry speaks to marrow, free of sorrow.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit jopomojo.substack.com/subscribe