The Passanger On The First Seat!

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

A Thing Called, Perfect

When we think we have it all, we don’t. You wouldn’t catch me saying it but there isn’t a thing called, perfect; no, perfect is not that perfect or cracked up to be. It is convoluted. It makes the perfect story, the best headline for the billboard charts but it is incomplete, a semicolon on a luggage of many Amens.

© Angela Aguiar

Life Scars…

Nothing in life is perfect and never designed but often, unscripted. Hope gives us the right to believe in tomorrow and as long as there is hope, there is belief, trust, faith in what’s to come. Believe that no pain is in vain, no sacrifice isn’t worth it or bare much fruit but scars of life, unscathed. Moving right along we keep, to an uncertainty we can’t foresee, with life always bringing us semicolons, a delay response to occurrences, one we may never understand nor comprehend, especially when now seems to be the wanted and the wanting, desirable. Yup, that faith within us!

©️ Angela Aguiar