When in the midst of confusion, the easiest route is ignorance.
Blissful at first, although quickly the path of least resistance yearns its truth, that without the challenge of forward acknowledgement, growth itself is not due.
In an endless repertoire, a seemingly cycling arrangement, in which we attempt to replicate the previous experiment, without simply acknowledging how we initially created it.
For we can take notes and in turn analyze, what it was that drew us towards this decisive conclusion, a true reckoning of time.
Yonder I wander, of course that is all my kind have ever done true.
Yet every waking moment that I am not engaged within the anomaly of my existence, I spend it thinking of you.
A part of me I suppose that is lost, a part of me that was at last reclaimed.
Now the simple matter of the fact is that i am engulfed in this stream of emotional conflagration, and within clarity I see that as a fragment I must simply abstain.
Remove myself if truth be told so that I no longer fit the previous mold, for separate from a distant natural state, yet within this storm of altered moments, it seems as though a mere matter of perspective is where we draw the line.
When we break through to one another and dissolve these past boundaries, then for the first or last time we can accept ourselves for whom we are, rather than whom we appear to be.
Essentially the essence of boundless serenity, for this is no mere place of complacency, when you are freely flowing, allowing the universe to be without challenge or hesitation.
No discord or negotiation, within the simplicity of present.
We allow dreams to seep into reality, fruition with ease when the dam of complexity dissolves effortlessly.
For we are the puppet master are we not, we alone are in control of this vessel through thought.
Selective perspective needless to say, for we either further our own continuum or meddle in the affairs of an alternative story.
A conundrum of course but with due time, these mere words that rhyme with reason shall manifest into the expression, our art, that which we measure as it rises and falls within the construct of time.
A dance is it not, and the romance may only truly thrive, when it is recognized in the mirror and at at last realigned.
We surface when we choose to do so, when the message has pierced our entirety.
Sending you Light through Love,
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