The Gold

Beauty is not in the pain, Beauty is in the strength. 

Strength to get over the pain

Beauty is in the extra moment you think about someone

More than you are supposed to.

Beauty is in love,

love that is around you that you can grab by your fist 

and it leaves a chilling sensation on your palm, 

the feeling so beautiful it makes your heart cry.

Beauty is not in your tears. Beauty is in your cry that tells you not to cry again.

Beauty is in the self-reflection.

Beauty is you thinking for yourself, feeling for yourself. Self-realization.

Beauty is in determination, passion for your dreams, in your soul.

Beauty is in pain, the pain you experience to take a step further. 

The last call your heart makes to stay longer. The strength that tells you to endure.

Beauty is in endurance. 

Beauty is in soul that can think, who is ready to get into the steps, experience feeling someone else’s feet as theirs. Feeling someone else’s ears as theirs, listening through them. 

Feeling through some else without touching them physically.

Beauty is in patience. Patience to see the sun rise. Patience to see your heart rise up. Patience in watching someone else prosper. Patience in people and trust in the time. Trust in yourself and independence.

Beauty is in gold. Gold that you find in yourself struggling through the mines around you.

Wave after wave

Ocean waves hit my soul, 

starting from the sandy toes,

to the stressed out salty brain.

Sandy sand drowns in itself, 

layers after layers and drop by drop

The breeze smells of life

The breeze feels like the horizon 

The breeze sounds like peace and infinite dreams

Ocean hits me with life, wave after wave

Sandy sand with life, wave after wave

I breathe. I take a deep breath 

and feel the oxygen in my chest 

with a chilling sensation inside my lungs.

I breathe. 

I forget the last time I couldn't breathe. 

I forget the last person I hated. 

I forget the last person I did not love. 

I forget my tribulations. 

I feel the noise inside me 

as the breeze passes me hitting the seagulls flying by. 

I breathe. 

I feel the smell of breeze 

as it brings me the fresh drops from the palm trees. 

The fresh palm trees stand still, 

waiting for the breeze to never stop.