Ripe Fruit
Time is a ripe fruit always fresh for the picking though the hours may stale like leftover bread Time is a ripe fruit always fresh for the picking,
The picking of your refashioned dreams an orchard of varied challenges and delights
Relish when the timing feels right though Time seems to fly at times upon feverish wings
Time is a ripe fruit always fresh for the picking all in its own Eternal hour Time wakes up through the limbs of its own power
Time the restorative progression Time the tick-tocks digression Time, Time, Time Just give it some time Time , Time, Time Just give yourself the space of Time
This Time, unfetter the sands upon your hands
Time is a Ripe Fruit always fresh for the picking
This Time, This Time chime, chime, chime chime, chime, chime This Time, This Time Chime, Chime, Chime
blank page reverie
I can take a full gaze of a blank page, and appreciate its gifted openness, its understanding potentialities
I can fill a blank page
I can take a reverent gaze at a blank page to realize its voluminous dimensions
within my gaze it becomes a cup in which I am truly free to pour my being and refreshen hope, document gazes of beauty distill any stifling fog that disillusions my aura open the vents draw the curtains to the moments and welcome in epiphany
I can fill a blank page with the kiss of my spirit(s breath a blank page is a platform to enriched oxygen a blank page the rarified atmosphere for my inner songs to sing and soar, it longs to be filled... as my heart longs to pour;
to fill the Cup and enjoy its fruit, elixir
blank page, ears of understanding, melodious reed, sweet flute, eloquent trumpet
can we gaze at the gift of another day like a limitless canvas of a blank page in which you are truly free to realize substance
may we retain the wisdom to treat our days like perpetual birthdays
than shall the disillusionment Lift with our Spirits,
enriched Oxygen
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