Love

Even if the world I look upon frowns back at me with indignation and scorn, will I strive to look upon it with love? Can I take that creature that I feel is attacking me as though I am something that I am not, and enrobe it with the lens of love, remembering that they know not what they do? In the face of blame or misdirected rage, can I remember who it is that I am? Can I remember that the only true thing is that I am always home in myself, that the arms of love can find me wherever I am, because it is what I am, always, and forever.