I want to live in a land that is misty, such places hold no past or future, just the present moment confined within the misty borders, and the hope which transends time. I would walk around carefree with dew drops moistening my skin, the distant fog a comfort, threatening and keeping out the regrets that darken it’s translucency. I would not be overly pleased with myself when I do good, as that might cause too much disappointment when I fail to meet that same standard. I will just be, and I will have joy because my love will come not from myself or my actions, but from the One with the endless supply.