I regret to inform you That the reality you subscribe to Is currently offline As reality has no power switch There is no way to reset the system Please accept my apologies For the extreme inconvenience Such is the risk of sentient life I never promised you life would be easy
I wrote you a box of postcards I never sent I could not set the stamp In place I could not address it To that space You weren't there anyway You never really were
In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity Trust yourself In the midst of chaos, find your calm Embrace the unknown Everyday is a second chance Keep going
I'm not a morning person But I love the Maxfield Parrish skies of dawn Pink and purple watercolor brush strokes Across a robin's egg blue sky Golden light gilding every cloud in radiant luminescence Pastel magic painted across the heavens Suspending breath through awe Arresting the rush and rattle of morning routines With the beauty of nature's majesty I will gladly pour a cup of coffee in the wee hours If I get to enjoy a front row seat for such an art show
Not everyday will be warmed by the sun And not everyday will be dampened by rain Some days we triumph And some days we feel the sting of disappointment Everyday dawns with infinite possibilities Everyday grants an unblemished fresh start Sit at the junction between waking and dreaming a while And stare at the dawning of possibility Breaking over the horizon And when you greet the world each morning Let the hope of infinite paths Energize your curious being To discover the greatness that awaits you
The art of language is a powerful mechanism allowing us to reach inside another's soul through the common threads of experience and the power of imagination to leave a momentary imprint on the soft fabric heart of other's lives.
I am not the author of your story As much as that saddens me to admit You are the wordsmith of your tale You write yourself as the hero of your own journey Despite being so often the villain of mine But understanding how you see your world Understanding that you can be none other Than the hero of your pages Helps me gain perspective into why You write me as the arch-villain of your narrative
There is no mirror in your story You cannot see yourself And as if bespelled You see only monsters and Enemies in every shadow My pages would describe the cause As a self-afflicted curse Yours would imply the question Are villains born or made? For you would say you are The result of what others made you Be you hero or villain You are forever alone Shadowboxing every perceived threat And drawing blood from everyone Who gets too close for too long Blinded by pain and unable to See that the one causing The most pain for you is you Like a manifested destiny It becomes so
As our books sit side by side on the shelf Yours a story of never ending rage, war, and loss Mine becomes a story of surrender, retreat, and release For I am removing myself from your story It is time to make myself the hero of my own And write the closing of this chapter For I can feel the peace and love I deserve Waiting for me in the next chapters of my life I am ready to transform my story Into the self-love story I have long deserved I hope you find your happy ending I write a magic wish for that Into my final paragraph Of our chapter in my book Then turn the page to my tabula rasa Full of potential and possibilities And the freedom to write my future As rich and joyful as I can imagine it