I believe we forget how refreshing it all seems to be, to wake up and know that the day is filled with endless possibilities. It is perplexing to me the intricate details that help set the next couple of choices in motion. The world is filled with a mystery and an allure that is truly
My hands move with such a rapid motion that it seems to move on its own. Jumping from device to device, I find myself in constant odds, wondering where it is that I find complete comfort. What device should I use to write, where is the perfect spot, platform, who am I writing about, Why
I’ve said it many times in the past before, time is ever changing and that you go through various seasons in life that have you reflect on life. Specifically, what I’m referring to is my life of course, in this instance. I’ve spent a good portion of my time writing these types of articles, motivational,
Where do we go from here? Your mind remains restless upon years of emotions and thoughts you believe you will not escape from. Time seems to be at a standstill and you remain glued to the notion that it will not get better. Jump 2 days into the future, a year, a decade, now what?
What does it mean to write? Laying down on my bed contemplating what my next words will be? What would entice a reader to stick through these simple words that would impact them? How would I draw an audience to my work? The questions that plague a writer. I find myself attempting to find proper
Search within the mystery. Bursting colors illuminated by darkness. Flickers of rays met with caverns of emotions. Into the deep.
O sweet goddess, you have marked me eternity. Hear my words part and reach tickled ears. Such beauty stretching beyond time and space. Trouble breeding strength and growth into such amazement. Your eyes are the sunset to my dreams. Your voice the melody to my heart. Your touch the calming wing. Catch me in your
Speak to me of days gone and I shall incite memories of yesterday to flourish once more. Speaking measures are taken to reignite thoughts and emotions drawn from distances once forgotten. Lest weary thoughts be a prison. Centuries drawn by passing. The past breeds change of the present.
Echoing thoughts raging from whispering silence swelling within. Nights of darkness met by flickering light. Vision disrupt by blurry noises. The paradox of the senses mixed as life finds meaning touched by empty spirits. Vibrating emotions catching the scent of the agent of nothingness. Tales carry home the tolls of finding life in an empty
Tracing the patterns of most what most people would never consider. Though these patterns are far more than organized waves of touch, feelings, or thoughts that have manifested into action, I could see them all clearly. Life. I cannot fully explain what has transpired in my life as of late. I recently had to go