Toasting the tincture of our totality can be an everyday anniversary. The circumference of our lives is built for cheering all of the candles cavalcade. I’m 2020 minus 1970 tonight (6:14pm EST to be exact as cited). I’ve flown halfway round the world to play… and stay (awhile). I’m here to see if what comes may will me into new prophetic ways. Immersion is my current excursion. Plunging into the uncharted. Ambient circumstances priorly patched upon paper or drooled over from magazines to social scenes. Instead, I like to crowdsource the credence of appreciation. It’s the atomic amplitude of our blessings that paves the best grace. I’m a track without train strain. I’m fired up in the brain. I’m not one for throwing shade. Consequently, I thought why not share about a few of those treasured things which have slayed me. So, I wanted to holler some of the taller tributes that have made me into what I am today.
Gratitude is the wine for the soul. Go on. Get drunk. ~Rumi
Even though I stopped drinking regularly decades ago, I endure to activate that intoxicated buzz when your devotion is saying you’ve won the lottery (sans the reign of green so far for me). No matter how, where deep in your veins throbs the sweet pain. Your statuesque mass a little soft around the ass, but only a firmer holding for the justified class lads. The bite of a diminished bank account or a best friend’s glare has ceased to scare. You’ve taken to gushing at the simplest sight. Maybe as I admire kites bobbling in flight. You’re footloose and juiced for endless barrels of laughs. Your prose has a nose for sustaining enough lucky engrossment mode. I’m a lush for the fashion of words and men feeling me up. The approach of a handsome sentence is on par with the finest flirtations. They’re the corresponding droplets when making out in the rain. An authority of attitude is always a philosophical gain.
My Spanx were no longer a poem of smooth perfection. I was pudgy where the tight-lipped elastic gaps were greeting skin. Then, I cast a glance sideways to fasten my attraction back into my being. My silhouette peaked my wit. If I couldn’t have that teenage tummy dream, I was most definitely able to gloss some photos with my curvaceous sheen. Sometimes it’s the reversal of fortune that’s required to confirm the terms of a great deal of mentality. Letting our highlights lead our life comes from the more God bombs we collect. My survival is baptized in the faith of eternal advantages at the courtesy of our favor. The benders I brag all came from the same reality surrounding you and me. Only that I decided I’d suspend the getting wasted in the lame soused pattern of yore for such as the bewitching britches of dancing upon foreign shores. Remember to treat your pennies good as gold and the whole world is a new door.
The textured mistakes we make don’t have to break us. I’ve found out how you can ask for a hug, a conversation, a job, and more than a dime. In keeping with every passerby not shuffling money to those people on the streets, all hands won’t welcome your needs. Yet, despite perceived shame or the ridicule games, I’ll hazard a guess you have a few cheerleaders at least in recess. In control of our armor offers us an unshakeable stance. Risk becomes a relatively routine showing excluding drama. I can type what and when I please, book back to back travels that satisfy me, and shower with the power of friends or an ocean breeze. Regardless, this is about the strike of your clout. Why your bold mouth testifying your authenticity should forever be without doubt. Along these similar lines is the uppermost importance of your unwavering piety. Our homage to mercy is how we craft our fear on a leash.
Our loyalty to ourselves ought not to beg on bended knee. Just as you truly can’t hurt a shadow, so you shouldn’t seek to escape the gifts empowering you. I’ve bathed in the membrane of half an invested durability. Hammered by the commentary of all that arrived before, I’m laying the roadmaps for languishing in too many velvet sunsets that anyone would adore. I’m endeavoring to meet mountains in varied distant ports. I’ll savor each separate fire as if all were meant for s’mores. This concoction of romantic conscience is cinéma vérité to the core. On beyond the apogee of apologies, I believe in the zenith as my permanent guiding blanket of stars. Even if I have to shield my toes from red-hot ants in order to reach the beach, I’m sinking those piglets into the sedating sandy land. I’m brazenly in love with the nuance of dwindling my afraid. Respectfully, you can follow me ~ I’m swiping right on life.
May as you grow sow the grandest gratitude you’ve never known.