Remember, remember, the 15th of November.
The freezing wind is no longer blowing.
Flowers are blossoming.
The sun is rising.
The summer is marching closer.
Amidst the fabulousness, I am sitting on my very (temporary, perhaps) place, trying and make some sense out of this pure, utter madness.
So much information to play with and little sense of proper organization. And very sparse visits to this small bit of a personal space.
While I get my cards sorted, the various shades of the spring are colouring the streets.
The blooming roses, the scarlet violets, all shining on the most vivid and exploding moment of their short lifespan.
The lapacho flowers, however, are fallen to the ground, with a darkened, dull yellow tone.
I am sorry for having to let go of your hand, the falling leaves and petals said, filling for my silence, but unable to mirror my heartfelt numbness.
Take a breath in. Somebody in Kansas City still loves you.
And I keep striving.
So as to move forward to what I breathe and live as being my most enduring dream.
So as to run into proclaiming myself what I foremost ought to be.
The Kingdom. The Empire. The People's Republic.
This has also been the 100th post on this blog. Thank you for all these amazing some 5 years.
May more and more 5 years take place. May more 100 posts be written on and on.
May I have thy company for as long as it is sweet.
Have an amazing weekend, dear reader.