Wait for a while
Wait for sometime, quite sometime
Wait till the next moment in time passes by, wait until then.
Wait for a while.

Wait because there is something going on in the mind
Distortion of facts leads to disturbance of the thought process going on in the mind
Annoying seems the present moment in time
Still it’s always better to wait for a while
Wait for sometime.

Wait because there is something going on in the mind
What happened then at that point in time?
What went wrong?
What happened prior?
Whether it was a diversion, whether it was a deviation
No one knows
No one can tell
Except for you, yourself
So always it's better to speak truth to yourself.

Since there are so many things going on in the mind,
it's always better to stay firm upon something not only at the present moment in time,
but also with the passing moment in time.

Make sure everything is clear in the mind with regards to what is going on in the present
Once that happens, then from that moment onwards things start changing
Time now to proceed with what has been decided as of now in the present with regards to the present moment in time.

Once that gets decided, then no point in looking back
It’s time now to proceed with what has been decided in the present and specifically getting the same thing done with regards to everything going on in the present.

What once was,
will never be again,
but maybe that is how
it was always meant to be.

And even though our moment has passed,
like a photograph stopping time for all eternity,
the sweet pain of the memory will stay with me,
always.

So familiar
and we call it Now
But the energy that's flowing
is strange and overpowering.
Be not afraid
for you are with God.
Come closer and feel the surge
of His Power
So you'll feel comfort
and not fear.
Honor each moment
and truly live it.
I don't even ask for gratitude
but simply experience it

So how is it to be God?
Just be in the Moment
and *just Be.

Next to his lips and his eyes, his hands are the most converstional. When he tells stories, his hands gesture persuasion and wisdom. When he shows his care to me, his hands hold mine firmly but gently. When he provides protection, his hands reach out to me and cradle me close. When he gives comfort, his hands stroke my hair and back, letting me know everything will be better with him beside me. And not once have i doubted anything he did with his hands.

//

I reached out for his hand that was placed lightly on my knee.
"What's wrong?" He asked. "Do you feel ticklish again?"
I shook my head and lazily looked up at his face, since we were sprawled on the couch, with my head rested on his shoulder, like his hand that was previously on my knee.
"Dont tell me you've got a hand fetish," he laughs in disbelief.
"I haven't said anything," I replied, drawing circles on his palm. Its amazing he isn't flustered, or at least he's acting not to be flustered, at my action.
He watched me quietly as I tried to read his palm. We sat there, only breathing, with him looking at me and me looking at his hand. This moment, is frozen and embedded into my memory. Just as those lines of his experiences are embedded into his palm.
"I would write a million books about just your hands," I confessed.
Through my dangling hair strands i could see him smile shyly, to which my vision cleared as he put the strands behind my ear.
"You don't have to write about me in books, when im already here always by your side. What's more is, whatever we had, have and will have, will be written on my palm, like its written in the stars."

From the moment he spoke those words and took my hands in his, I never believed in astrology, wishes, 11:11s, fortune telling, mind and palm reading anymore for the luck of love.

Backs on the wall
With the sunset and all,

The silence that existed between the spaces among our knees
And each time that our eyes meet,
I shiver in fear knowing that...
This is just a "moment"
That I might never have you

And the moon appeared along with the city lights
And there I am, hoping...
To have our backs at the wall
To have that silence between the spaces among our knees...
Happen again
With the chance of our eyes meeting again,
But this time without the thought of fear of just a... "moment"

I don't want you to be just a figment of my imagination

When the air around us becomes still, I begin the hunt for guarantees. Perhaps they are hiding, terrified, within the glimmer of promise that always seems to catch me moments before the fall. Maybe they are written somewhere inconspicuously, in the spaces between the fingers that hold me together better than gravity ever did. Savor this, I repeat to myself, a broken record that only remembers how to play the same tune over and over, over and over; but for some reason, I keep it running. Savor this. Savor this. Savor this. But when your lips greet the apples of my cheeks with a fire that cannot be extinguished, time is all that crosses my mind.
You whisper the volumes of reasons why you love me and I am only thinking of the moment you will tire of it. You shelter my joy in a canopy of trust, but I am far too busy counting seconds until the minute I become just another pretty story for you to tell when I have been set aside to collect dust.
I have discovered art in the curvature of your temples and the way you shook my father's hand with honor that night you kissed me under the illuminated blanket of God's great masterpiece. I have discovered it in the way you hold me close on the days I feel light years away from myself, the days when my body feels more like an abandoned orphanage than something that is meant to be alive.
You promise me forevers decorated in contentment and I am waiting for the day you regret it.
We are youthful and electrified, juggling candles at the tips of our fingertips and expecting not to burn.
I tell you that I want a yellow house with light blue shutters and a swing on our porch that rocks gently in the breezes of April.  I tell you that I have visions of us warming our feet by the fireplace in December snowfall, consuming peace within the melodious laughter of the children we will have. I tell you that when it storms, we will build forts out of quilts and hold competitions of brightness between the lightning and the glow of our own love.
I almost tell you that I need this, but I only find fear in my disappointment when I realize that there are no guarantees, and until tomorrow comes, we are holding our breath in limbo.
Instead, I tell you that I love you presently, and while we slow dance in our backyard a thousand eternities away, I am losing track of days spent grieving a dream that has not yet, or never will, come true.

Who's eyes are these,
That sketch me beautiful and slender,
That dip the world a tangerine tint,
That douse me in a moment to remember.