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Updated: Nov 21, 2021

When I scroll through my journal of stories past.

I see how happy you were,

Sometimes how sad you were.

About so many happenings how certain you were.

Pages and scribbles.

A code only I will ever understand.

Forgotten disasters and weeks of darkness,

A mythology of seasons gone by.

Tracking each phase of the moon,

Chasing shooting stars.

Are the only consistent events in this life so far.

It has become amusing to me,

How fleeting our human emotions can be.

Head strong and all knowing we can pretend to seem.

This concious gift of a mind we do bare,

Takes hold of us all if you don't pay attention.

Plots riddles and doubt when in yearning for affection.

A reflection this mind of the puddle of hysteria we create.

When lost, leaving it to fate.

Debates and questions clogging up this once light and pure space in our heads.

A space full of possibilities, whimsical fantasies.

Dreams and memories dance like stardust in the cosmos above.

Love. Is the answer.

The care our mind needs and craves.

The potion to release all desirable emotion and fuel your being with peace and motivation.

To conquer the quest, whatever resides in your head.

You only know the medicine, intuition guards the pages.

Through ages and ages the secret has always been in our reach.

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