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
I saw zen in a corner, waved at it and it answered me. Woke up one morning, teeth grinning all the way to Neptune, smile ready with its own parking space and flag, hair style screaming Doolly Parton, hollering I am here. Dressed to the nines, spirit running through the beautiful leaf-peeping red, yellow and orange pigments autumn canvas that is self, I hit the street. Radiant aroma reading bouquet of roses permeated the air. Mood, a tale for the ages moment written in stone living in a mansion, switched flags at the track. Flashlights of wisdom, makeshift of charisma and puree of dotted blunders thrown in a basket delivered to the massive carved wooden door, loving every butterfly that graced the air that I breathe. Grateful for the open field and luggage of yesterday, an accidental passanger, I hopped on the moving train, taking the first seat, on the right hand side, enjoying the ride on the caravan of possibilities that is tomorrow.
And quietly I sit…
© Angela Aguiar
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
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