Funny how you spend your entire life learning how to live, how to love, how to die. And aren’t they all the same thing? It’s hard to have hope simmering at the bottom of my hurts hard to keep track of everyone I have loved. Cycles continue to exist and stretch out every fibre of my being until i latch onto the lessons lingering How repetition works; a divine teacher of the cyclical order of everything. The ocean whispers loud enough for the land to break Not a single word spoken; movements speaking of such intricate language, Mercury wouldn’t dare dysregulate. I crave the ending of cycles The end to patterns, new love, new arrivals Yet I walk around decrypting life through all of its repetitive signs proving the carefully planned randomness of its existence. I find it hard to love even when the only thing my heart inherently knows is how to love. My heart breaks as if I am one with the cosmic the hills, the glaciers, the rivers, and all the seven seas. The source aches. The core whimpers. This is hurt that begs rest. Medicinal care of our roots. I, the center of my universe every breath dedicated to my existence. This is how much I am loved.
。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚
This is in reflection of the days spent hurting, hours consumed in loving and the unquenchable desire to feel it all through the act of living.
My dear friends, I hope that we will allow ourselves to be fully immersed in the human experience even when there is the fear of losing.
With love, Mei funds for an emerging artist (venmo): cosmeicbrain