She’s the calm during the storm. Wherever there is rain, she’s the sunshine, reminding me that pain doesn’t last forever. She’s the closest thing to perfect. The reason why I believe in angels. She’s God’s gift to me. The best blessing I’ll ever receive. She’s my best friend, my confidant. The only person that truly understands me. And with her voice she calms my spirit. With her smile she warms my heart. With her wisdom she inspires me. With her laughter she cures me. With her love she encourages me to believe that I am valuable, and for that I show my gratitude. You are forever loved.
What do the limbs of trees spread to reach? Intellectualism, no — but of other wild things. Communication in a glimpse: we are the disturbance. Illusions sought out only for evolution, rely on a bundle, a mirage, a feeling. Deception through rationalization. We are not logical systems, although built in these structures that we deem to be true.
In silence, we retract from distractions of worldly interactions, we can answer our questions in silence.
We are not imprints of the stars, though we follow their guidance. We are not cost-benefit analysis, just lust, and worry, and violence. We are only ever slightly awake, to notice the trees, who quiver and shake, who wish they knew the beauty and composition, and wavering suspicion, of the beautiful fingertips of Man.