Today I realized,
how important it was
to value the little things
those little small tiny moments.
I'm not talking about moments with  friends or family,
or your significant others,
i'm talking about the little unnoticeable moments
that we all made
to..ourselves

from the moment the sun wakes us up,
to the way the sun shines it rays on our face,
and to the way we groan about how annoyed we are but than we thank the sun anyways
to the way we look at ourselves in the mirror just to give a peek on our morning face,
(we've always known how terrible we look but still we give it another chance, who knows, we might get lucky and look super incredible that morning)
and to the way we walk to the bathroom with our bathing towel on our left or right shoulder,
to the way our hip sway, from left to right,
when in the toilet, we took another peek of our morning face again , just to feed the hunger of our curiosity,
to the way we choose what to wear on that day.
everything single little things we do is beautiful
and what more do we need ?

~~
..
When the Beauty I See
In the Land and the Sea
Even the Flowers to be
But not like She

When the Love I See
Within the Flower and Bee
Even in my Heart to be
But not like She

~~
..
@Musfiq us shaleheen

Relaxed with proper posture, while my golden mind speeds, like a flying saucer......

733

The Spirit is the Conscious Ear.
We actually Hear
When We inspect—that’s audible—
That is admitted—Here—

For other Services—as Sound—
There hangs a smaller Ear
Outside the Castle—that Contain—
The other—only—Hear—

My mind's a map. A mad sea-captain drew it
Under a flowing moon until he knew it;
Winds with brass trumpets, puffy-cheeked as jugs,
And states bright-patterned like Arabian rugs.
"Here there be tygers.-" "Here we buried Jim.-"
Here is the strait where eyeless fishes swim
About their buried idol, drowned so cold
He weeps away his eyes in salt and gold.
A country like the dark side of the moon,
A cider-apple country, harsh and boon,
A land of hungry sorcerers.
                                              Your mind?

--Your mind is water through an April night,
A cherry-branch, plume-feathery with its white,
A lavender as fragrant as your words,
A room where Peace and Honor talk like birds,
Sewing bright coins upon the tragic cloth
Of heavy Fate, and Mockery, like a moth,
Flutters and beats about those lovely things.
You are the soul, enchanted with its wings,
The single voice that raises up the dead
To shake the pride of angels.
                                                 I have said.