Category: Life

Of its Texturized Vulnerability!

I can admit when it came to matters of the heart, it was never easy knowing how to be truly vulnerable. Learning how express one’s heart, not worrying about how steeped the words spilt, how texturized the love seeped. A love story would never be remiss, if words didn’t get in the way of its tender kiss. When its fire burns, it’s felt deep within one’s bones. Sometimes, the flame of its truth does flicker, when its refrain doesn’t know any better, but restrain the light of its essence. So many times, foolishly we chase after it breathlessly like the wind, not comprehending one’s heart is deeply moved by the strength of love’s divine breadth. We tend to spend a lifetime trying to measure up, when love is about the heart showing up, to allow love to profoundly show out. Love grows in stature, indicative of one’s heartfelt posture. One’s faith elevated, its words and actions being related, leaving one’s heart and soul elated. Love likened to a merry-go-around way, leaves you perplexingly feeling in a roundabout way. Its amusement becoming but an emotional daze, never becoming of the heart’s captivating gaze. One’s heart, has to study to let the proof be how one’s soul learned to listen, for love’s small still whispers. Words should never feel like love caught up within a flow, the consideration never of its illustrious afterglow. Love, doesn’t need pretty words to display its artistic beauty, to reveal the breathtaking depth of its poetic nature. Its context, predicated as a pretext than of a natural expression, an encounter subjectively complex. Of love’s mosaic exposure, the fabric of one’s soul bared, the heart’s nuances exposed. Yes, I can admit when it comes to matters of the heart, though it’s never easy being vulnerable. Vulnerability is the place where love extracts of your soul, the most illuminating story that will surely leave, fairytales utterly speechless!

WCR

Inked!

Deep within my soul, a crimson love story seeps, penned its composition keeps. Etched upon the tablet of my heart, the end still being inked, of a mind and soul living synced. Love is the ink, my heart just the pen, versed to spill the tea. Plot involving, of my heart and soul’s evolving, the artistic breadth of one’s inked love provoking. Constant it flows, consisting of some of life’s woes. Yet, endlessly my love pours inked, a never ending love story. Transformation of a heart being led, penciled thoughts redefined, of love permanently inked, its essence defined. Every soul has its tipping point, love of a harmonious well, spills of one’s heart profoundly textured, visibly inked. By design, love’s artistry leaves its truest mark, of its fluidity drying so clear. One’s heart revealing, the tapestry of one’s innermost, love inked transparently pure!

WCR

 

Love’s Tangible Manifestation!

Don’t ever allow love’s expression to seem performative, not being deeply substantive. Of its expectation, its beauty revealed to one’s soul, of its heartfelt manifestation. Heart and soul aligned, inspired actions refined, of love’s act defined. Of its strong possibility, its crucial realization. Like nothing else, love does something so profound, awakens within our heart its palpable breadth, the strength of its faithful persuasion. Releasing in our soul its supernatural presence, what leaves fear quivering within the midst of love’s tactile glory. The kind that eclipses fleeting wants, becoming just of its desired need. Of its touch, of its essence, of its tangible embrace, the true manifestation of its holistic nature. Beyond emotions, more than words, what palpably seeps, evident. Of real love’s transformative beauty, a heart knowing the whimsical nature of its decorative aura. Made known by the pleasantness of its effects, moving you with strength of its character, the deep breath of its distinct veracity. Love is ornately perceptive, keenly intuitive, not through elaborate words, but visible through the subtlety of its deeds. Love doesn’t brag or boast, will never be impressed by one’s swag, for it offers itself as a meaningful toast. A heart on display, of love its abstract soul bared. Of a tangible love gifted, of one’s heart its manifestation!

WCR

Fire of its Intuitive Breadth!

The intuitive fire within one’s soul will never flame out, when real love is what fuels the fire within one’s heart. So, set ablaze love’s unquenchable fire, with what it profoundly desires; your soul’s passion, your heart’s compassion. The soul not worried about backdraft, but what’s needed to let it consume one’s innermost. Seeping into your bones, until it burns deeper within, burning away every single residue of doubt, that love’s fire can’t sustain one’s deeply felt need to become. A soul on fire rising from ashes like a phoenix, ignited by the true essence of love’s precipitous propellant. The flammable breadth of love, forever kindling the fire within one’s saturated heart!

WCR

Dream Out Loud!

Never give up on you, the child inside, not afraid of dreaming out loud, having dreams within daydreams. Against all odds, childlike confidence wielded like polished pebbles, having a ripple effect that profoundly changes perception. A heart, knowing that hopes brought into the light, lets the dreams in one’s soul shine, illuminate so divine. Dream audibly, contemplate intuitively, humor imaginations instinctively. A heart that chuckles when someone says, broken wings can’t fly. Just smile, marvel how their hearts don’t seem to understand. Wind beneath a heart spread wide, a soul needing just faith to soar, dreams to roar. Why, you never give up, ever give up on you. Never be afraid of from the depth of your belly; you dream out loud. Dreams seeping like an endless river, cascading like a never-ending stream. Love’s deepest truth, dreams revealed. Even if reflective of a dream ordinary, it can still glisten tangibly. Don’t let your dreams be timid, to face your northern star, it’s what keeps inspiring your heart to never give up, ever give up on you. Visions change the world; dreams preserve it through time, to fulfill its purpose. Sometimes, life itself becomes a stumbling block, but the key to unlocking its fulfillment. Deep within your soul, knowing dreams come true when you deeply believe, it will never give up on you. Convince your heart and soul, it’s okay to dream out loud!

WCR

Time’s Succession!

Time waits for no one, doesn’t need anyone’s permission. Its movement progressive, its revolution massive, its impact beyond comprehension. What only time will tell, how hypnotizing its spell, until the hour rings its bell. Time is sensitive, its wisdom perceptive, its characteristic intrusive, its appendage reactive, its actions assertive; but yet, to your feelings susceptive. You can’t change its mind, but this you will find. Even though, you can’t sway hands of time, you can encapsulate its sublime. Don’t call it a crime, when on this side of time; become wasted days, wasted nights. We all get the same, moments in time, with no one to blame. Your heart thinking, time’s the game, your feelings have a hand in persuading. But, time isn’t totally heartless, twenty-four-seven vivid dreams truly endless. Time grants us visions, what a wide open heart receives, the enlightened moments perceived. Time’s strength, its beauty revealed within thus, our enduring light, compels its timeless might. Within the nexus of the soul’s progression, the heart’s fundamental decision, be emboldened by time’s momentous encounter. One’s heart and soul, understanding life’s greatest breadth is realized, through a course of time, propelled by love’s sequence of actionable events!

WCR

Story of two Gladiators!

One, comes armed with words, the other, shows out with deeds. One fixated on wants, the other focused on needs. One’s mind, one’s heart, toe to toe battling, for ultimate supremacy; in life’s gladiator colosseum. The pursuit, not for a show of skill, but perpetual will. The heart, that knows its worth, is totally chill; its soul conveying, peace be still. The mind, unstable in its way, easily be swayed, battling to have its momentary thrill. Thoughts, seeks to outwit, only to be undone, with gentle nudges, love’s bridled bit. You see, it’s not about the contest. Love’s wields its greatest strength, heart and soul equip, with its undeniable context. Oh, mind, don’t mistake a bleeding heart, indicative of a wounded soul. Passion never counts the cost, what compassion will profoundly yield. Heart strategic, a soul deeply pragmatic. Heart and mind, journey to become warriors, for a time such as this. Heart and mind discovering, they’re more powerful, united to combat complacency. Heart and soul, taking captive an indifferent mindset. A thousand battles fought, but ten thousand more will be. Two Gladiators, heart and mind, finding common ground; the art of living with deep scars, but yet fulfilled!

WCR

 

Home!

Home, where the heart is, where love provides for one’s soul. I have a house, but, that’s not when I feel, at home. I have a place, to lay head, rest my weary heart, but not the moments, my soul is at ease. I have acquired much abundance, but food not what fills me, deep love what fulfills. In my house, I have many rooms, in which freedom to be, do whatever the heart feels, but, that would never be a home, unless love what makes room. My house, has things to keep thoughts entertained, of sight and sound. Yet, they could never convey, that it’s not the content of one’s home, that values the true essence of its worth. Every soul within, context that it brings, breadth of love’s heartfelt kin; providing all its warmth within. My soul feels, my heart peels, back the layers to what that reveals, wages of love’s essential hue. If, sharing is caring, then daring is preparing; your soul to have room. There’s no perfect home, love makes imperfections feel homey. A heart, truly at home, awakens at the cusp of every dawn; feeling beautifully drenched, of love’s breathless dew. A soul knowing, life is but a breath, live it well. Home, the heart’s safe place, its hideaway, soul’s constant provision. An anchor in life’s storms, making available love’s oxygen. Moments are, what moments become, love’s intended sum; home, in one’s heart!

WCR

Right Standing!

Standing right, my love seeing of thee, I am a tree, my sway indicative of its poetry. Standing upright, height of my worth see horizons, my sights beyond the peripheral. Standing majestically, my expectations act realistically, love’s silhouette illuminating my heart and soul fantastically. Standing tall, I don’t fear the fall, when love beckons, my soul answers the call. Standing just, to fathom deepest places my soul must. On the cusp of forevermore, my roots shake off the dust, keeping my heart’s soil moist, perpetually free to seep. I stand amazed, of if words matter, why do so many, fail standing up to the test of time? I Love You, those magic words, sounding so symbolic, but yet, needing to be substantive in its truest form, irrevocably. Of love, it doesn’t need time, to be the rhyme, or become the reason, in every season. Becoming a part of you, where it begins and you end, so profound it won’t bend. What never stands to differ, strands of its breadth that won’t ever quiver, under pressure of being unequivocal. Love, knowing how to strum tangible strings, sings the sweetest of melodies, what stands acoustic in its own right. What moves heaven and earth, to give you depth of its being. Love, all you need it to be, stands up right, as everything precious. Stands right in front of you, being where you need it to be. Not by chance, but for every heart’s glance, indicative of a heartfelt stance. What runs to you, like a poetic prance. What stand on its word, unapologetically; faithful love, stands upright under analysis. Bares its soul, for a closer examination, of your heart’s innate posture. Love in right standing, will always transcend fight or flight. Will never capitulate to what might, only to what ascends new heights. Standing true, rhythm of love not swayed, by synthesized blues. One’s heart and soul, so deeply moved, compelled to be of love’s breathless muse, captured by the essence of its boundless hue!

WCR

Imperfection’s Bliss!

Perfection’s myth, imperfection this, of love’s divine kiss. A humble heart, knowing its presence, emboldened by the essence in one’s soul. One’s life so moved, by its the unintended mist. Undesirable features, not of what imperfection chooses, but of the confidence an unrestrained heart oozes. One’s heart, knowing its worth has nothing to prove, what heartfelt moments could never diss. Imperfections, demonstrate just this, flaws with walls, surface in of itself. A moment for one’s heart to texturize its soul’s mural, a mosaic portrayal extraordinaire. Imperfection, too hip to be square, perfection wouldn’t dare. Like, vapors within the wind, wayward perceptions alter, a fluent sway reshaping heart’s perspective. Through lens of hope, blemished dreams are made possible, obtained tangible. Love’s textured perfection thus, imperfectly perfect though us; celebrate its breathless beauty as this, imperfection’s picturesque bliss!

WCR