I write to you from the future, where I perceive you as just a baby, with so many lifetimes to evolve. Here, in the Library of Light, where everything is recorded in your Book of Lives, I smile at your accomplishments, and the gift of poetry you have countless times chosen to procure a deeper understanding of . . .life, after life.
I see Autumn arrived under an umbrellic cloud-cover cooling the sun's volcanic wrath. It's been a...