Knowing their textures of thorny essence, feeling it even though sitting far from them.
Memories of once upon a time, touching their prickly fingertips was enough for a lifetime.
Now I’m contented with just watching them wave shyly to me from a distance I can deal with and admire them.
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Tracing pictures in my mind, feeling their extraordinary pull towards writing them again in different aspects of beauty.
Extracting so much from within melodies as I contemplate the necessity of being alive just to write what life has and is giving to me alone in my own private little hell.
Tossing chance aside, filtering messages of reality as they try to wreck havoc in daily routines.
Being at ease, alone in a desert storm, without an ounce of hopeless thought.
Disparity of truth is difficult to understand, because it
standing of the concept.Yet, how is it that people lie to your face instead of tell-ing the truth, being honest, letting another be respectedwithout resorting to lies would be best.Cheapening friendship instead of expanding and bringing oneanother closer to God doesn’t make sense.
Days go by, melting into melodies of past love, no longer shining for us anymore.
Love, if it is to be spent, must be held close to you, as you travel past highways alone.
Silent patterns seemingly inert, set themselves on journeys of
Lounging alongside visions, watching as they continually passby on inner screens, allowing the freedom to choose what I wantto select and write about.
Film falling down over my ears, filtering out unwanted conversations around me.
Reverberating throughout my intellect, giving me pleasure beyond what life can even give me.Solace and serenity fill me with a calmness I can’t achieve any other way.Silently beckoning to inner talents, falling into backdrops of peace.Taking years into moments as I fill many pages with posterity’s legacy.A sense of purpose filling me within.