For the universe always finds a way;
Through calculated moments and articulated decisions
To keep the balance by shuffling and distancing the connected pieces;
Within a finger's touch, but never in its full grasp,
(The Curse of self).

Nevertheless, I'll reminisce with satisfaction,
The delicate and sincere parts of yourself,
You cautiously yet willingly offered;
As requested by the passionate stare in my eyes,
The thoughtfulness of my selected words
And the calmness of my voice.
(Worlds and Seasons).

An absolute resolution,
Of the ageless predicament,
Which plagues the mind;
Also in its unconscious state,
Manifested by fussing over the past,
Musing over the present,
And panicking over the future.
(Fine-ish).

What is, and what appears to be,
Splitting the difference,
Substantiating existence,
From the harmony and fusion;
Between illusion, imagination, and intuition.
(Tentacles of thought).

The discernment to know what to hold on to and what to let go of,
When to be persistently patient and when to be intentionally passive,
While everything else does what it does;
The unsurprising spectacle of life, and all interwoven into the paradox of time.
(Parallel Diversity).

Where necessities, desires and trivialities,
Are in a ceaseless battle of supremacy;
Altering the balance of mind,
Poisoning the innocence of heart,
Obscuring the certainty of reason,
And distorting the clarity of purpose.
(Caress of a Soulflower).
© LeozInkz