We All Bleed Red

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People are a joy and their company a gift. I speak not out of naivete but out of discovery and love. I am no stranger to the resentful businessman, the surly pedestrian, or the ungrateful neighbor; neither are grief or suffering unfamiliar to me. Yet, I recognize the loneliness hiding in the cynicism, the heartache within the indignation, and the desperate cry for love within every unjustified complaint. Recognizing it as I do, how can I return insult with insult? Our similarities are astounding. How much more then do I desire to love the stranger when I begin to recognize him as brother.

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