The power of naught

I have not insight or knowledge capable of offering anything worthwhile on horrors unfolding hour on hour in lands Ukraine, Palestine and Israel. Tears tracing my cheek bones have power of naught. No help or change or alleviation in unspeakable suffering. Yet all the same they propel these finger tips, typing words on glass into the ether perhaps finding lodging in you.

What then? Then. Breathe Feel Breathefeel again watch resonate Ensure all in my field recieve no wisp of hatred emanating from me.