AN ODE

 

An austere rehearsal
Much more like a eulogy or a myriad of words behind a clandestine canvas to decribe one’s love and affection
That is still alive and burning

Read and ponder upon the words written in black ink for it is not the blackness of the ink that describes what is written

Stand beside me through the good times
Stand beside me through the tough times
Stand beside me through the mundane and redundancy of life for it is where spontaneity is created
For boredom is just a fickle identity of the mind when one’s glass is already empty

Let us weather the storm together
Let us be “we” instead of “I”
But never losing sight of who we are in the eyes of the storm
Let us appreciate the peaks and valleys and the hue of colors that gives life to what we have built.
Let us enjoy the fullness and greatness of the four seasons in every calendar year
For it always brings new life and meaning that life is always renewing itself
Let us earn our mileage in every month that is celebrated
For it is a milestone of recognition
Let fear dissolves its own identity through humility and appreciation
And not to teetered to our true goal
For fear only hinders growth, progress, and prosperity

Let us learn from each other
Grow from each other
Be stubborn at each other
Laugh at each other
Mock at each other
Pray for each other
Passionate about each other
Love each other
Value each other
Make time for each other
Make love to each other
Understand each other
But not kill each other
For time is short and futile to be wasted on petty picking

Fiduciary obligation fills the calendar slot of the week, month, and year
But giving time and space to grow
To ferment and cement commitment, understanding, and stability from such fiery emotions and catatonic impulses

Money don’t grow on trees but we can plant them
Flowers grow in a garden of buckets but we can propagate them
Words can be concocted not of adoration but of action
Pictures can be painted in an array of albums to be reminisced
But one could never give or buy the world, climb a pedestal to be a prize or a trophy– to feed one’s ego nor to pacify times’ fury

The body shrivels
As time passes
We either aged like fine wine
Or aged like sour vinegar
Petechia becomes more relevant
Creakiness of bones reduce the luster of speed
Adipose tissue losing its warmth
But defines the vitality of youthfulness endeavors as we ponder to all conceived memories
That the luster of friendship never fades

Let your beauty be a piece of motivation , inspiration, determination, sensuality, and love when the taste of lust and attraction dissipates in to contentment and peace
Like the louvre of artifacts
To be appreciated without patronizing

We may not know what the future holds for it is not written yet
For life is too short but still long to write it off early
We are still capable to create memories for the present and the future
And we are created to appreciate and meditate the beauty of the entity we built
that is us
–spaceandcaverns–

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