As adults should think as how your son at five is your master, at ten your slave, at fifteen your double, and after that, your friend or your foe, depending on his bringing up, and that if the latter wins, it’s because somewhere, he was still your slave and a darker double of yourself.
Until you know that life is interesting . . . and find it so . . . you haven’t found your soul. You just found that you’re real, but not really all there.
Once a word has been allowed to escape, it cannot be recalled. Nor how the response will be when that word is spoken, so be comeback ready for it.
And the best way to sound like you know what you’re talking about is to know what you’re talking about. Something I fail to do, on a daily basis.
‘Cause in the end, we didn’t lose the game; we just ran out of time. And in that time, we forgot that we were playing for fun, not points.
Many hands make light work. Fewer hands make work to forever! Help!
Which leads to the question of when did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat? Because of what others want to grow up to be, seem to be the biggest tie breaker there is.
Stress should be a powerful driving force, not an obstacle. And that is to those who making stress a game, more than a feeling of mistrust.
And to that, for those can’t take stress. Don’t aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally. And that stress will fill as a much needed laugh to break out.
You know, there should be at least one fear, no listen, when the earth floods from global warming, the swimmers will rule the world. Best to take a moment and learn to dogpaddle, slim chances are needed in case is al.
Adding to the fear of telling a teenager the facts of life is like giving a fish a bath. But: you to at least try, even if it was pointless from the start of speaking of said person or fish.
Or how something as simple as knowing of how come wrong numbers are never busy? And the voice you want to hear takes the longest to reach you?
It’s the menace that everyone loves to hate but can’t seem to live without, hate to love something just the same. I guess to balances all the things so there is no real winner.
To where if you must seek truth and you will find a path, but don’t forget how you found that path in the start of this.
Thus far, in a spliced mind of two, I may be a twin but I’m one of a kind. And there are just two to prove that you could stop one, but is it the right one to stop?
But there is still the hardest work in the world is being out of work. Because the one dream to have, was the one that didn’t even wanted you, but what else from childhood told you otherwise?
The only cure for vanity is laughter, and the only fault that is laughable is vanity.
Again, the err of human is that of a puzzle set, it takes time to put together, of what is right and wrong, and what life wants out of those who did the most work.
There are times those weird questions, that maybe are best not to answer, but you hear them anyway, as they sound light as whispers, such as this one: How can you eat anything with eyes?
The vices of the rich and great are mistaken for error; and those of the poor and lowly, for crimes. Yes, thanks life, for telling us money takes the difference of those, who just want to live!
I dare not do this, but in violence we forget who we are, and forgetting one’s name is just the start of it.
What follows are there are always casualties in war. If there weren’t it wouldn’t be war; just be a rather nasty argument with lots of pushing and shoving . . . and that is close to what a battle should be. Less of mess at least . . .
But it couldn’t be worst to what happens to things, after a war of blood . . . filthy water cannot be washed. But it can taint the drinker . . . with salty tears to wash their face of their blasted crimes.
And as you rub away the tears, looking to the sky, seeing rainbows, rainbows apologize for angry skies. But not those of angry morals!
Where somewhere else, far from this battle, where people bend each other in kindness, the beauty is that people often come here for the stretch, and leave with a lot more. In hardworking sweat, not blood.
That even, for every girl should use what Mother Nature gave her before Father Time takes it away, having to choose to help the battle or not, and just as the sons, it too twitches our daughters.
And by the end of this, for there aren’t enough days in the weekend, to get this done, I say we have come to a final closed.
Where it has taken, not just me, others as well, through the life ripples, quoting each mark as a win that made it, as the wastebasket is a writer’s best friend, and this night has shown the wastebasket has eaten a feast for kings. And the writer finally got the lost word . . . goodbye, goodnight, until next full morn.
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