Nusaiba Yusuf

a small token token kindness (01st january 2023)  
          
          steadfast sunsets, crooked mornings; lake a crowd of gleaming mournings. lyrics that burn, bones hopeless; tongue of wind, it rarely stays. a future of magma, temple and cityscape; humans among humans, a home bereft. 
          
          a birth that bleeds, a firmament of fleeting wisps; feet smelling of earth, lips a facade, what we appreciate. filigree like rain, a blush of darker reign; summer distorted, desert a burning lace. panaroma of a kaleidoscope, a bard like grackle; pits of doubt and a park of frission. 
          
          jardin de tuileries, seeds of breezes; memory endearments and waves of freedom. satin scents, devoted petals; barricaded branches and canvas of dripping enchantments. convivial music, lily trenchants; reflective denouements, fulgent waterfalls of wisterias. 
          
          violent fears, chalices of secrets; numbing encouragements,  frosted vanilla. oscillating mountains, cloved cessations; tainted vicolos, bricks of dried redolences. parasols of petrichor, labyrinth of moonflowers; tower of desire, rose precipices. keep a smile, with flowers divine; they grow not on well made roads but through the rough womb of mother earth. 
           #adropofhumanity 

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Hey beautiful can you please give it a try to my book "forever in your eyes" it means a lot to me ✨❤
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/208077631?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=_kmkxo_&wp_originator=pW36NpTsMiY%2BCXeXC9g29toZSGGvwslNc4HFqkejjb8a%2FnWOj0YJOObjU64WmxWn4vNUuIvoYDWD4M5XXSCL1FDFdxAU%2FQLv4RXN7uUI1Eb0QD7qVz9nb1m%2BKg7I23xS
          

a small token of kindness (7th October 2021) 
          
          the sun is a relative of the old- which associated with the scarves of the dried flowers of the gone days. it has lived through jolts of dreams and eyes that held terror of desperation. the lives that lived only upon the preface of the rays, making a temporary home out of fire. 
          
          and what can be said about the moon except that seldom has it lightened its own path. it has and continues to work for the waves; the blades of which are as sharp as the flamingo's stare. it appears, it flourishes but feels foolish and stupid. it is never there by free will and is pitied upon by the sun's flames. decades upon decades of sacrifice for nothing but a few moments of pleasant lingering.
          
          the sun and the ocean are beautiful standstills; like time that has tasted oaks and horns and like seasons of dare coarsing through sorrows. they hold much; they bury misty breaths and golden glares, and they cherish the crippled yellow leaves like revenge. 
          
          but one must accept that beauty is heavy; a burden like the crisp October that balances between summer and winter. and one must stand still, hold onto elements of protection, the scabbed bits of dressed wounds. 
          
          everything beautiful is terrifying. perfection is wild; the ocean a spectacular depiction. all that which has been cursed by the needle of beauty, has used the thread of terror. perfection dies, what remains are the details. the scabs, the scars, the fine lines of torture evident upon the palette.
          
          perhaps the sun is feared for the very reason. for the love it serves and the fire that it can kill with its venom. 
          
          how else can beauty be perceived? it is common to both life and death and apparent alike in a human's blood and sweat. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          

a small token of kindness (19th July 2021) 
          
          some days are mundane. it is just a characteristic feature of certain weeks or hours to be simply uninteresting and empty. 
          like the sky has no clouds and the night has no stars. 
          like the earth has no human to weep for it and life has no one to appreciate it. 
          like the flower has no happiness and the birds have no will power to claim the sky. 
          
          such hours are inevitable. one cannot move past them without feeling the effects of it. and we cannot skip either with the thought of avoiding it. 
          
          you have to face each day no matter what it appears like. just as the sun that rises despite finding the sky empty and the moon that shines alone in a starless ground. 
          indeed, all days are unique. perhaps they are a little solemn compared to others but they carry their own spectrum of light. and anyone who chooses to understand their range while working with consistency and dedication will find his day improve as time progresses. 
          
          you cannot merely avoid the day or give up on it for the reason that the clouds too were not present with the sun. your time is precious, it is limited. each day brings its own death and each death its own end. each day you live a little and die a little. make the most of your life and feel your end a bit. it is highly neccesary that you passionately fixate your mind and will over what you desire to attain. nothing should be able to separate you from your dreams. you and your goals are precious. and you must fight for them each day, every hour and perhaps even every minute. 
          
          time, my dear, can be clever. it can use you for its benefit and not the other way around.
          
          
          and therefore, you must ensure that you walk the day or even crawl (you need not neccesarily run), if you do not want it to run you. 

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السلام عليك يا أختي Thanks for the follow

Hello! If you have time please do checkout my book Recklessly Yours. I hope you enjoy reading it.
          Love always,
          VictoryIsMe!

thank you for the follow love <3 if you have the chance, do check out my books xoxo have a good day!

Assalamualaikum!
          
          Check out the my book Mending hearts,