Creating is a field of consciousness.
Berry picking here. Apple orchard there. And. A garden of Eden.
God made me pure not perfect.
Naked feet by the ocean, bared soul to the world.
My life is a work of art, I could paint this picture.
And what if it was just that. Wouldn’t Van Gogh be proud.
Garden of Ouran
You start dying slowly
if you do not travel,
if you do not read,
if you do not listen to the sounds of life,
if you do not appreciate yourself.
You start dying slowly
When you kill your self-esteem;
When you do not let others help you.
You start dying slowly
If you become a slave of your habits,
Walking everyday on the same paths…
If you do not change your routine,
If you do not wear different colours
Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.
You start dying slowly
If you avoid to feel passion
And their turbulent emotions;
Those which make your eyes glisten
And your heart beat fast.
You start dying slowly
If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love,
If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain,
If you do not go after a dream,
If you do not allow yourself,
At least once in your lifetime,
To run away from sensible advice…
Those days when poems just sit at the tip of your tongue, seeds not quite ready to bloom.
My mouth is a garden full of sleeping flowers.
This went in a completely different direction than the one I was expecting.
fucking jerry
god dammit jerry
reblog to save a life
