Fair is the winter of my discontent.
Cruel is my fortune of the tormentuous mistress that is my husband’s nature.
Love he prophesses.
Anger he spews.
Solace comes in solitude and detachment.
Happiness lives among the fellowship with others.
Joy resides in the hearts of my children.
Why can he not see but through the eyes of a troglodyte?
What karma is so wretched that it be his fate of misery?
What is the fortune of the key that picks a lock such as his?
What secret among all Akashic records would be the breaker of the code of the mystery of man?
Will he ever awaken to see all the glorious joy of God is within himself?
If only he would open his heart to see it.
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