nothing could be my ampersand

Ah, the decadence of summer. The bright sun, the slow burn of stellar reactors. The warm wind, driving around with the windows down, secure in the knowledge that comfortability is not far off. Blanket statements, covered refuges.

Aggregates of hospitality and licensees of our wildest dreams combine together to form some single synthetic closure to the cool days of spring. Wind and rain come together to leave their mark, and disperse like a wild flock of geese at the sound of a gun.

Into the breach, once more we venture. Not foolhardy or relegated to the direction of inadequacy, quite the opposite, we are not to be still and timid, but the brave, the free.

And I forgot just why today's so yellow, it makes me smile.
It's hard to find, it's hard to file, the will in all the while.

Soon, this national unit in which I reside will commemorate the short existence that it has enjoyed. Yet somewhere between the light and the sound, there holds in time a moment. A moment wherein to sit and reflect.

Though all of this may pass away, though everything we know will someday fall and be changed, there is a call to difference. No composure or completion could be gained, except through one name, one gift from God, one Son, one sacrifice, one path. Him alone, and none other, for we are recipients, not actors in any way.

There is no other name given among men whereby they might be saved. Not by right, nor by might, but by the blood.