there exists a certain grace in existing. how people were living their lives, how they were moving on - every day, every night, carrying on despite everything.
the beautiful ones were the happy ones. the ones that woke up without wanting to go back to sleep, the ones with a pixie jar full of magic and lost dreams in them. how they polished their dreams every night so they wouldn't rust. how they made others smile when they were running out of it themselves. the ones who knew how to put themselves first and still be the first one to reach out for others.
there was magic in living. those who sought adventure and made their own in their everyday hum - the ones with colours and brushes, the ones with words and moments. and then the everyday magic throwers - with their honey words and kind actions and brave deeds - even if it just was holding the door open.
the happy ones were the satisfied ones too. at the end of the day, they went to bed with a smile on their face and a will to wake up the next day. those who didn't base the quality of their lives on anything - those who had just enough - with the bed to sleep on and food to eat and people to live and talk with. and the end of the day, somehow that was what mattered.
and it was, honestly. even when people pushed them down, even when they were put in a bad light, even when no one refused to believe in them, they stood up with shaky arms and bruised feet and announced to the world that they were still alive without vice lacing their words. at night, they would sit down and work, and in the day, they would live - peacefully, calmly, satisfactorily.
life was perfect that way. not excepting anything in return, not getting angry, and staying calm - because it was a superpower. being grateful and being nice.
- and smiling all the time.
YOU ARE READING
Prismatic Memories
Poetry"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. scie...
