Courtesy: @Drew_Beamer unsplash.com 2018

Time.

An ever elusive currency.

Slips through your hands the instant it arrives.

Never to be replenished,

no matter how hard you try.

No refunds.

No exchanges.

Destructive editing, upon attempting to revisit

past time.

Pain.

Joy.

It’s all fleeting.

It’s all expensive.

It’s all finite.

Instead,

embrace the moment,

the lesson,

and

by default,

perhaps growth.

Don’t waste in vain a truth you cannot change.

Tick. Tock.

Spend it wisely.

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Photo by Susan Wilkinson on Unsplash

It’s wherever I am, when I’m with you.

Through the thickness and

thinness of this

journey.

We came upon each other.

Two precious stones.

Perfectly imperfect.

Together, we found and find

a way to keep paving.

Carving.

Sculpting.

Together.

Molding our

love

into one precious stone

to weather all seasons.

To admire it’s imperfections.

Perfectly imperfect.

Crafted by merging two spirits.

Together.

Two precious stones.

Together.

To build a home out of precious stones.

Your heart

is my home.

Our precious stone.

Dedicated to the love of my life. 8 and a half years, side by side. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Courtesy: tabitha turner Unsplash.com

Rhythm and conformity
Artists orchestrate emotional evolution, compel inner reflection.

Lead your obedient, eager soldiers. Though they may, at first, appear hesitant, it is because they fear the foreign until they become fluent in the language that you speak, and assimilate accordingly, spreading YOUR message, gifted to them.

Share the gift that only you can give, with your unique stroke of beauty, enlightenment, from your magical palette.

Breathe life into their tender, untended souls. Enrich them with spirited challenges.
Be the change, they so desperately crave.

Grant them the permission to live all the colours of this collective, ever so beautifully evolving palette that is us.

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AJSTAR212 Pixabay

To know better…

is to no, better.

To know better…

is to grow, better.

No need to sharpen that pencil…

To produce a moot point.

No need to ink up that pen…

Only to anoint…

breathe life into…

That

which

is

untrue;

A song with new lyrics, no meaning, no feeling, no beat.

A song retired, no need to repeat.

Instead…

I’ll dust off my dance shoes…

put on a new tune.

Press my favourite dress and kiss with

my favourite shade of rouge.

The night is young and

This new beat

just

hits

different.

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