Joy In One Palm

I woke to a day holding both light and shadow.
Some call it the cycle of life;
others feel it as joy in one palm, grief in the other.
A candle lit for a birthday—
a beautiful young soul stepping into a milestone—
and, in the same breath, a farewell
to a childhood peer now carried by memory.
Two moments balanced on the same scale,
measuring the weight of being alive.
Life is kind.
Life is beautiful.
Life is merciful.
It does not judge, nor does it discriminate,
and sometimes—perhaps in service of something greater—
it is heartbreakingly brief.
We are given only a handful of days
on this island called Earth.
So why not honor them?
Why not let them shimmer?
Why not live effervescently,
as if each breath matters—because it does.
Celebrate life—
its milestones and missteps,
its adventures and aching headaches,
its quiet blessings disguised as noise.
Remain in grace.
Choose presence over anger.
Choose joy over misery, the conquest of the night.
Choose to dance.
And there we are—
lost in a fog of I don’t know what.

Life is…

A gift. Treasure it
A journey. Live it.
A book. Read it.
A perfume. Smell it.
A bottle of wine. Drink it.
A flower. Love it.
A gadget. Use it.
An entertainment. Experience it.
A moving vehicle. Drive it.
A balance beam. Navigate it.

Life is… an assortment of abundant blessings.
Your state of being.
Life stories.
A carousel of graces.
A merry-go-round of gratitude.
Ardent joy.
Life is art.
Draw it near.
.
.
The highway…

© Angela Aguiar

The Railroad

Searching for that vibe, energy, IT, the will as life begins to slowly shift into gear, one puzzle at time, piece by piece with precision of a welder. Yesterday it isn’t but tomorrow it will with old habits lingering still, reconstructing we are, with new set of wills in toe. Some souls have rebranded, transformed, molded into their perfect beings but others, right back at yeah is being served on the platter, untapped water, menu of the corroded restaurant left untouched by the tornado, as many failed to grasp the route of the ride they are on. Monday grove mood it is, riding the boat parade of the week railroad we are on, a meeting of the minds carted in a scribbled murky piece of wood, still yet to be tamed.

© Angela Aguiar