It's been awhile since I've had an image heavy post. I usually update with images to illustrate phases or places that are too breathtaking for words, places where mere words escape their description, or places I am not averse enough with my descriptive analysis to adequately describe. Like they say: A picture is worth a thousand words.
These images represent happy moments for me. That's why I take pictures. I think that's why a lot of people take pictures, if I am not mistaken. I take pictures to capture that pristine moment in time and just bottle it up in a photograph that I can replay when I am feeling down, empty, alone, or just cold.
You see life has a way of handing you sweet flavorful oranges just after you've had a bout of lemonades. Unfortunately, the ickiness of the lemonades lingers in your tongue a lot longer than the sweetness of the oranges. In fact, the lemonade's sourness is almost impossible to get rid of, and you wish you could get rid of it quick enough just so you can get back to the sweet succulence of the oranges. It's almost like only a lengthy passage of time would eventually yield what lies at the end of the copious helpings of bitterness brought on by the lemons. This passage of time that seems almost never ending at some point. But you have to power through it bearing the sourness, ickiness and over all suckiness of the lemons which at some point begin to turn sour. However, until that time comes when we can sniff the sweet smell of freshly plucked oranges, we just have to persevere through the bitterness, and hope to work out the passage of time by glancing at images from the days of old when we had sweet ripe succulent oranges.
You see life has a way of handing you sweet flavorful oranges just after you've had a bout of lemonades. Unfortunately, the ickiness of the lemonades lingers in your tongue a lot longer than the sweetness of the oranges. In fact, the lemonade's sourness is almost impossible to get rid of, and you wish you could get rid of it quick enough just so you can get back to the sweet succulence of the oranges. It's almost like only a lengthy passage of time would eventually yield what lies at the end of the copious helpings of bitterness brought on by the lemons. This passage of time that seems almost never ending at some point. But you have to power through it bearing the sourness, ickiness and over all suckiness of the lemons which at some point begin to turn sour. However, until that time comes when we can sniff the sweet smell of freshly plucked oranges, we just have to persevere through the bitterness, and hope to work out the passage of time by glancing at images from the days of old when we had sweet ripe succulent oranges.
I hope this makes sense.
Still
I am still even though my heart speaks a trillion languages.
It beckons me to take heart at the solitude
I have confined myself to.
It asks me to make friends with myself
To meet me in a form
I never knew existed.
It speaks as if I were someone else
Who had no hand
In the destiny
That the voices
Have convinced me to take.
It begs me to be still
That its’ guiding light,
Is as one who has no stake
In the confusing loss
Which our rambling hearts forever undertake;
It is a voice speaking in the dark saying:
Do nothing. Be still.
To which I respond:
I am still.
Please be still with me.
