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Had I been a flower, I’d paint the garden sunshines. And yes, I speak of a light unlike any other. A spark, a beautiful one that sculpts, deepens, and refines from within. Be it Asters or Shastas. Like the brittle Marguerite, I still bloom. And all I lov'd-I never lov'd alone.
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Talk about hustle’s revenge in a way that is most pleasing. I’ve unveiled true sanctuary. Home sweet home, I realized. Even when void threatens to consume bits of the mind, it vanishes into the quiet comfort of my own company. Replaced by the presence of love. For me. For myself.
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The color black, for the first time, doesn’t call for attention. In barefaced honesty, I set you down inside a mind both restless and mesmerized, chasing its next insight. Do you feel it? Eyes are set aflame, heart are dancing double time. Yes, you are intrigued. Deeply.
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