A thorn is only as sharp
       as the vine it came from...

So let the flowers flourish over
                        the sharp words.

And let us learn that the smell
                of fresh morning blossom,
is always better than sharp words
          
Pricking blood from our  reflection.

Never ask,
           Always think
                firstly...

                           And then follow
the words backwards,
           to find the meaning


of what was not clear the first time.

sometimes we rewind
                                  to find
what wasn't clear.
            

Freeze framing to find that moment
         we should have noticed
an indiscretion and navigate the
          meaning of where we  

fell to pick ourselves up
                            and recognise

our own failing.

Time is the deconstruction of
          a moment for it doesn't
move forward is every millisecond
an eternity of contemplations
         that were we right or wrong..

But as time moves forward we
            to can move past the errors,
the infractions of our miss stepped
                              refractions.

For if life was a colour we would
              change upon every step.

Because there is never a hue of gold
   but an emotion of woeful regrets.

Remember the time we had,
   for we are never stagnant.
For to ponder on a moment
                   would ensue the folly
of insanity...

Let everything, be a moment
         moving forward..

Not in regret, but in a lesson learnt.

For the well was deep,
      and the water
            endless.

     But I broke on the surface,
Never sinking beneath
The fractured
reflection of the abyss..

******* with sandpaper,


                         smoothing the wood...

You never wanted recollection
of what we were, what we'd
                           become..

There wasn't an us,
           there was
        more of a him over
there,
    her looking into a reflection of
no where's.

We were hand in hand trying to
push the other over a cliff of
                        regretful memories.

But we held on to the memories
                                 of me and you,
Because not all of them were rockslides.


And realised that if we looked at us..
        our reflections were together.

        Be it side by side of raised voices,
               but we knew that I loved her
and you loved me.

We were just a land slide of emotions,
             but always had the others hand

                           so they'd never fall alone...

My veins the roots,
            my mind
the tree,
       growing stronger
over time..
              rings of contemplation
show where I came from.

         Imagination are the  
leaves that flourish in
           rainbow hues.

And every leaf that falls
is but a reflection that doesn't
                                          look back...

But as it falls,
                         Its nourishment
for the ideas that may still be a
             leaf growing next fall..