I cry all the time now.
I cried all over the street when I left Seattle Wobbly Hall.
I cried listening to Bach.
I cried looking at happy flowers in my backyard, I cried at
the sadness of the middle-aged trees.
Happiness exists I feel it.
I cried for my soul, I cried for the world’s soul.
The world has a beautiful soul.
God appearing to be seen and cried over. Overflowing heart of
Seattle, February 2, 1956