Life isn't meant to be simple,not always going to be planned. And so we should remember to take opportunities where we can do all the things we want to work, write, travel,dance,sing,cook. Don't let your winter arrive having not done anything.
The dissonant chords and consonant chords dance in harmonically progressive orbits that create cloudy tempests.
For everything that occurs in life finds a place in poetic compositions. "Let your poetry unite the voices to recite the healing hymns".
I laugh some moments, marveling that I can make up stuff and convince people. But I embrace the deeper lesson that opportunity isn't so much something that shows up,as something to create. Don't wait for your life.
Life doesn't stop at only one or few windows. It does takes a lot of courage to realise this and much more courage to lose few things.
The beauty that has to be seen, blue of sea and sky, and grass so green, the beauty of the ordinary, looked at again.
A silent kind of loudest cry A scalding tear that froze my lie A broken clock that ticks my days.
I’m sorry for I keep talking in a language you don’t get. It’s a habit I don’t seem to be losing. But, I guess it’s also okay. Because, I don’t expect to be understood when I don’t understand it myself, anyway.
Like 'Midas' turned everything into gold when being touched,why not sorrow can be touched with tenderness of love and caring and being converted into happiness.
Well I question ?
Shine so beautifully and leave everything which makes your brightness dull.The gentle waves, a lovely song whispering peace, peace, peace it goes on and on, for ever long, The inside of my heart is now at ease
In dreams at night, my soul flies light across the seas, across the sky– What does it take to keep awake for hopes to soar for dreams to roar?
And then I wondered which story I wanted to end. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.Life is not so much about beginnings and endings as it is about going on and on and on. It is about muddling through the middle.”
For thousands of years, many stars have fallen for the moon’s mesmerizing beauty . Memories glide the corridors of my mind, chronicles unnamed, swept away like golden stars on a rivers waves with no recall of the scent of rain.
While I hold the crescent moon in my palm With only the night owl for company in the warm embrace of the night ,star-gazers own the sky.
If stars had voices would their songs be heard, Or would the echo flutter lost in space like feathers torn from some poor wind-tossed bird?
They carelessly tell me, "Feel the fear and do it anyway" But, can they even fathom How unbearable it is? Living day to day Wide awake in a nightmare Drowning on dry land Can they possibly imagine Gasping each breath With a vice grip, clamping Crushing your lungs shut Gulping stale air Like a fish out of water Cramming down Harmless threats Irrational thoughts of panic Filling to the brim Heartbeat pounding Frantic, drastic And everyone around you Floating, Treading rips effortlessly Is yelling at you to swim
Silently having been bearing the unjust moves of selfish mankind, through all these years Mother earth,finally has had enough, Quakes often to reveal its anger in revolt And cleanses its face from filth and dirt Dumping down the thousand garbage souls in just one go.