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BE patient for you were once like him. Young, joyous and dead inside. Let your frustrations melt into compassion for the journey he is embarking on. Your patience is a gift, hard earned , from toiling the same fields he has yet to sow. His wisdom is in it’s nubile stages where your compassion may water those seeds no end. Love is your guide, is love not your guide? Laughter is your superpower , is laughter not your superpower? Fun is the cosmos, is it not Fun? Grief is real , so let it through - Least it turns to anger and eats you whilst you are still living.... on and on and on Be patient for you were once like him. Be patient for you are not him, he is not you. Life doesn't always work on the currency of hope. Be patient for the same fields you have yet to sow ones you don't even know, already bloom and fruit, seed and disperse over on his land called a body. You are a branched, crooked tree, and this is the way we exist, when we are ourselves. Unknowable until the moment, powerful beyond our dreaming, bring yourself back in, to the land that is your eyeballs and knees, soft and slow and gentle.
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Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
Sometimes Medicine Doesn't Taste Good But Is Still Good For You
BE patient for you were once like him. Young, joyous and dead inside. Let your frustrations melt into compassion for the journey he is embarking on. Your patience is a gift, hard earned , from toiling the same fields he has yet to sow. His wisdom is in it’s nubile stages where your compassion may water those seeds no end. Love is your guide, is love not your guide? Laughter is your superpower , is laughter not your superpower? Fun is the cosmos, is it not Fun? Grief is real , so let it through - Least it turns to anger and eats you whilst you are still living.... on and on and on Be patient for you were once like him. Be patient for you are not him, he is not you. Life doesn't always work on the currency of hope. Be patient for the same fields you have yet to sow ones you don't even know, already bloom and fruit, seed and disperse over on his land called a body. You are a branched, crooked tree, and this is the way we exist, when we are ourselves. Unknowable until the moment, powerful beyond our dreaming, bring yourself back in, to the land that is your eyeballs and knees, soft and slow and gentle.
this is not the end, but this is a movement.
Fah
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Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
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