We Don't Make Mistakes, Just Happy Accidents

<3

It doesn’t happen over night. I never believed that it was possible to just wake up one morning, after suffering a loss, and be okay. To wake up one morning and be healed. Rather, experience leads me to the conclusion that emotional rehabilitation proceeds in waves. Waves that vary from a light, complacent froth that kisses the sand in the morning’s glow to violent thrashes that collide against unstable structures and seem to shake the very earth I stand on. And maybe in a way this rolling, continuous journey is better than having a switch in the heart automatically turn on, or in my case, off. Even the most back-breaking floods, the kind that make treacherous skies seem inviting, only last temporarily. Then, before the salt has time to dry another batch of fresh ripples wash away the remnants of the downfall. Days like today make me realize that I’m going to be feeling the impact of these impassioned waves for the rest of my life. I write this in a wave of contentment and a feeling of sheer tranquility, knowing very well that tonight I may be overcome with sentiments of a completely different nature. But that’s okay.  Given the choice, (and maybe a shot for brave thinking) I wouldn’t fast forward this time. The buoy that sinks beneath the surf may avoid getting burned by the sun, but it also misses the beautiful call of birds, flutter of leaves, and waves of life.  (Source: twocankeep-a-secret)

He was once my adventure Alas now it appears I have become the leader Thank you to those who liked the work I posted a few weeks (maybe just one week?) ago :) If you want to see more of my poetry message me about my poetry and creative writing blog.  (Source: get-enchanted)

Fighting’s for soldiers and games are for whores Yelling and screaming itself is a war Trouble does bubble and scratch at the surface In deep shades of green with no evident purpose Swaying across a tightrope that’s fraying Words stick in my throat from the price I am paying Across the ledge a fire laments To snap the last threads with its greatest attempts The story’s unwinding or so it would seem Out of the clouds come Hope’s promising gleam Cushioned with promise of a summer’s embrace I can’t help but look down to a smiling face Said the Sun to the Moon: The story’s all set It’s not playtime I’m after Call me “hard to forget” Side Note: For more of my poetry message me and I’d be glad to give you the link to my poetry/writing blog :)