Sometimes I still think death would be better.
So eager to move on to the next chapter.
And I pause and think I haven’t grown or changed at all.
But then I think of how I can find beauty anywhere now.
 And all the kind the things that people tell that they never did.
 All the experiences.
The Essence of things.
How lost people are.
 How lost I am.
And I know I have blossomed.
Every spring is different and never what it seems or how we want to
percieve it.
But at the end of the day spring is always beautiful.
And when the winters of my life come and I sleep or die.
At the end of each season I know it is all for a reason.
Most importantly I found out in all my experiences everything happens
for a reason.
There is no validation for it.
Or purpose but it happens.
 Who I am to say whether it is wrong or right?
 I am just the spectator, experiencing it all.
 Just part of the art work.
And the artist..well we are part of it’s world.
We are in it’s domain.
All I can do is be as beautiful as possible.
Flourish and blossom.
Do my part in this art making.
The rest is illusion.
 Merrily, merrilly, this is all a dream.
 After all Life and death are the same things, right?
I have died plenty of times already.
I think there will just be a time I won’t come back at all.
 And I am okay with that.


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