There has always been a necessity in writing, penning my thoughts, journaling, or whatnot – for how else will I capture the moment as it passes; what happens if I should forget those minute details, or worse, what if I forget that moment – to be gone like an exhale on a cold morning?

Watching as the moment presents itself, the veil of darkness lifted, allowing for the break of day. I shall hunt the memories, forgetting not a thing, capturing every moment as is, some of them so fragile and short-lived that I cannot afford to lose them. I will trap them with words, in poems, and pictures.

Reading words that leave one to imagine more, revealing a piece of me. Where is the beauty held by a ray of sunshine in the sky and laughter that filled the air? The flowers were standing in the fields, coloring the landscape in a hue of happiness.

I am moved, by the scene before me, stirring that place in my heart. No words seem quite adequate in describing the sight in front of me, and my silence has been taken by the words in my head, as I watch the splendor of my day vanishing into the sunset.

Reading back from years gone by, my soul is bathed in the moment, discovering for the first time what love could do to it. The most beautiful feeling in the world. There are days I think that we have it so good, we enjoy it so much, yet, we express it so little. When things are less than perfect, I sit perfectly still and wait for the breeze to blow it all away.

The answer is blowin’ in the wind – it moves into our lives like the wind and has its way with us. Sometimes these moments come to me while I am meditating – sometimes, even in song and sometimes I can hear it in the innocence of a child's words. I am never able to predict just where or how it will influence me.

...for your mere presence in my life has brought a sense of worth and hope to mine. Your words make a profound impact on my world. It has never felt typical, but, very much surreal, a constant bond of feeling loved, a sealing of my fate. Awakened wholly sated under a blanket of love, covering any misgivings, warming up my heart.

I remember the exact day I wrote these words below, not even having to read the date. I was sure life would never be the same. Years later, I am here and I am fine, but I feel their pain nonetheless.

I am speechless and terribly consumed with grief today, so much so that the words will not come — I’m not accustomed to being speechless. Today, my words stay inside, for they make no sense, even to me, so I keep them with me, for my ears only.

So, I embraced this silence that was thrust upon me – feeling it at moments as a kind of camaraderie with the voice that had been silenced forever and ever. Other times, perhaps, I talk too much.

All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.

May there always be a flower to color your world. #alwaysaflower And just like that, this post is done! Come back tomorrow and we will do it again. Always remember that kindness counts, wherever you are, whatever you do. Love to you always. Denise ❤️

How Do I Love Thee?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Elizabeth Barret Browning