Individuality

When you are young you start discovering
All the different parts of you, testing them out,
Getting to know them thoroughly and individually.
Sometimes it can be a confusing time,
Thinking you have to choose one of them
To represent who you are.
But as you grow up you learn that all these different pieces
Fit perfectly together like a jigsaw puzzle
Creating a beautiful picture, original and unique
In its artistry

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Nostalgia

Memories are like treasures buried in your mind.
The more you look at them and hold them,
The more polished will they appear, until they one day
Outshine the reality that birthed them.
To me, this is a reasonable magic that lets our life story
Shine just a little bit more beautifully.

The heart of dreams

My windbeaten dreams were once so fragile,
I wanted to feed the silence with words.
But now I see that it is behind
those beautifully shaped summer clouds;
When chased away by a winters storm,
The night is revealed,
And the heart of dreams
shaped in constellations of faraway light.
Strength is not boisterous and unyielding,
It is a faraway light resting in a constellation
Only a small insignificant human being
can see the true shape of.

When your courage flickers

When your courage flickers like a lit match,
Let me be the hand that shelters you.
My palms might be rough and calloused,
But that is just so that they won’t blister
When your flame starts to roar.

Autumn in the city

There is something about wandering around cobbled street surrounded by russet leaves and trees with amber crowns leaning against brightly lit shop windows and cozy white painted cafes.

There is something about the dim orange autumnal light making tan-less faces shine beautiful, and the northern wind whipping up rose cream to brush on people’s cheeks.

There is something about little wooden homed cafes in the autumn rain with people in them drinking hot chocolate and smiling while wet drops cover the windows with diamonds.

There is something about children and puppies tossing around leaves and dancing in muddy puddles.

There is something about listening to the sea while sitting on a bench in a park eating Cinnamon buns with cold stiff hands.

There is something about autumn in the city…especially in the north where the sun blazes so briefly in the summer, yet so strong into the night itself. There is something about the nip in the air on those first days of October, waking us up and inviting us in, celebrating the natural rawness of sea and sky and land…