White
White.
A color, a skin, an open thought.
It's the color of a blank canvas in an art gallery.
It's the empty space between the lines on a page.
White.
A color, a skin, an open thought.
It's the color of a blank canvas in an art gallery.
It's the empty space between the lines on a page.
I felt something new, something fresh, something serious, something with deep meaning. It is not ordinary writing, though it looks simple.
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life is confusing
for all of us
no matter how small or how big
we all have rough times....
Picture
An actor up above on a stage,
Reciting lines from a script that he has memorized 100 times over.
He goes along with the show,
Executing his parts perfectly,
They say life is like a mirror, when it is broken we can't go back and arrange it into pieces.
But I say that life is not a mirror. Because when we are ill and broken we can go back to God...
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Heart when shattered
heaved to heal
as greatness unveils
the soul yet divine ...
Since all my steps are audience of my past,
a past damasked by relevant joys, pain, growth
and overloaded with treasure and souvenirs.
Every new step arrives out of all steps taken,...
Alert and splayed branches accept and reinforce
life's rhythms, existence, and love.
Now in January, I want to write the poplar's pulse,
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This poem!! I felt a tug in my heart because it was truly a story of truth from your heart! Very well expressed, and I can't say but one thing more. If we keep our ears open we learn from...