Nothing coming close to precise rhythms of togetherness, kept closely, fitting with utmost care into corners of abysses.
Folding over many ideas, keeping with traditional exercises of tomorrow.
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Beckoning turmoil to turn around and bring a sense of peace towards an ending of sorts.
Reading books along edges of tidal waves, hoping to belong somewhere in some space in time.Living carefully, afraid to stop and smell the flowers, keeping a sense of goodness in heart.
Treasures from yesterday, being sung in a small cafe, catering to karoke.
Meals are great, all home-made, and served with a smile.Good humor fills the environment and laughter is the adjacent sound across from rhythm, playing strong and loud.A class act, a place to return to again and again.
Necessary scopes of life need to always be at the ready in case trials build and threaten my peace of mind.
Dignity abounding, giving me a hold on life as I climb higher into creativity, existing totally on a plain of calm rhetoric, as I finalize myself within.
Relating facts to emotions, changing attitudes residing within me. Leveling the playing field, charging the light brigade of nighttime
Finding solutions from every angle in life, being hidden in cornersof log cabins, with only candlelight wavering in the dark, illuminating very little in the room.Stricken with the pain of living too long.
Columns blocking my view, taking away my vision until I grasp it and make it mine again.
Consuming everything, being curious, questioning everything within my power and loving every minute of it.