Where Words Fail
A melting pot of inspirations and daydreams that found a home when I finally put them on the page.
In a room where there are no others and the only visiting companions are silence and memories. Beneath night where light and dust scratch their signatures onto the sky like young lovers do to trees, as shooting stars make it clear they don't exist to be exhausted by a wish but to show off their wings and inspire us to build our own path beyond the box that segregates us from marrying our dreams to reality. Every day of endless downpour holding a mirror to your mood when the catalyst is a hole shaped like that someone omnipresent in the past and nowhere in present day forward. Rainfall is mother nature's way of providing space for us to commiserate with one greater than ourselves. Who else understands loss better than a force who reincarnates in seasonal shifts? Welcome her warmth. Welcome her embrace. Stay there and build your second home away from where the new words fail because last words only leave space for themselves and no one else.