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 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
| We lived the days of blood, sweat, tears to write a novel once, again. Assayed we through all joys and fears for 50,000 words to win. Some days I thought I'd not, but write those thousand words as halfway there. My par I missed one cruelish night and soldiered on past heartfelt care. So, writing badges, all but one, adorn my NaNoWriMo home. 1-6-6-7 were not all done, but averages more than vinced that tome. My hero finished well, I'd say. He saw his Lord and wife, again. The latter lived his earthly day. The former bore his debt of sin. How did I write such reams of words, while working a new job most days? The resting hours flew like the birds, 'mid characters' vast do's and says. Oh, NaNoWriMo's in the ring to box us as we bob and weave. "I'm finished now!" I dance and sing. I cried as dear souls lost to grieve, but grieving's done when Victory's here. I speak the Truth to all, who list, "Each life's a tome, so free and clear, So blest when God's Own Son be kissed." by Jay O’Toole on November 30th, 2022   |
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