Try counting the number of eyelashes crested on top of wondering eyes. Fluffy and dark, yet–invisible. How many days have they stood on guard, brushing away any deterrents to enable an unfiltered access to the world? An entire world view. Who knew? Eyelashes are the bridge to sight; to scenery and greenery. Camera lenses are the eyelashes to photography. Capturing one moment, one second, one frame in time. I have not been grateful.

Fingertips rest atop the canvas of your life. Pen clenched firmly between thumb and forefinger. Swiftly, they move across, in some frantic yet familiar pattern. Mapping out the terrain of your mind, the train of your thoughts. Connecting the dots. Conveying so much in so little. Clasped together, they are unstoppable. Nimbly open up the jar of bottled dreams, move mountains and then some. At night, weary and full, rest sleepy heads in the cradle they provide. I have not ever been grateful.

Even when I am weak, I am strong. I am restoring myself. My warriors are resting and planning. What mould shall I break tomorrow that I already haven’t? A caterpillar at once gone and stalling. I am the caterpillar, the chrysalis and the butterfly. You cannot differentiate me from me. Sometimes I walk, other times I rest. Someday I will soar.


Instead of wishing upon a star

I wish upon the days I have

And the ones yet to come

Because those are wishes granted

That I never asked for



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