i believe that the tenacious spirit has a responsibility to live up to its own reputation. we all have it but it's our job to give it a fight chance.
for me, it's letting the light in - seeing the sun peep through the windows gives me moments of clarity, even in their brevity. it's in those seconds that i think out of my higher mind like yeah, i got this.
closed curtains bum me out; you can see that the sun is shining but you can't see it brighten the room. it's a different thing than when it's cloudy because you'll have no choice but to miss it. keeping the curtain closed while the sun's out is like saying "yeah, the world's turning but not for me".
doesn't that scare you? it scares me.
but i like the sun, man. he'll rise, shine and set whether or not you know it or are even conscious of it. i especially love the way he dances with his bride, the moon.
one rules day and the other, night. it's one of my favourite tales of achieving and maintain perfect balance. there are nights where the moon doesn't come out to shine, even though the sun did.
i sometimes wonder the state of panic he's in when she isn't there, scanning the skies for his friend but never finding her; only these small sparkling specks we call stars. they flicker but they aren't even a fraction of her brilliance.
the sun has only one mission the next day - shine again, without concern for the 12 hours that aren't yours. you just do your part and wait for her to do hers.
i wouldn't want to shine by myself though because when it gets dark, where would i find a reminder of what being resplendent looks like?
for me, it's letting the light in - seeing the sun peep through the windows gives me moments of clarity, even in their brevity. it's in those seconds that i think out of my higher mind like yeah, i got this.
closed curtains bum me out; you can see that the sun is shining but you can't see it brighten the room. it's a different thing than when it's cloudy because you'll have no choice but to miss it. keeping the curtain closed while the sun's out is like saying "yeah, the world's turning but not for me".
doesn't that scare you? it scares me.
but i like the sun, man. he'll rise, shine and set whether or not you know it or are even conscious of it. i especially love the way he dances with his bride, the moon.
one rules day and the other, night. it's one of my favourite tales of achieving and maintain perfect balance. there are nights where the moon doesn't come out to shine, even though the sun did.
i sometimes wonder the state of panic he's in when she isn't there, scanning the skies for his friend but never finding her; only these small sparkling specks we call stars. they flicker but they aren't even a fraction of her brilliance.
the sun has only one mission the next day - shine again, without concern for the 12 hours that aren't yours. you just do your part and wait for her to do hers.
i wouldn't want to shine by myself though because when it gets dark, where would i find a reminder of what being resplendent looks like?
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