I am trying to find a sense of sustainability for the center of me. It is a steep, trashy, muddy road. Always find mine sluggish. Quicksand that I miraculously just stand over and not get sucked into the earth. I punish myself sometimes. Reprieve as I go. It is a cycle.
Life turns itself slowly especially with a struggle because you need to learn to leap blindly in faith that you will be okay. It scares the sh*t out of me. Something out of balance although prominently enough inside I know I need to trust myself that life isn’t monotonous, IT IS going somewhere. Only I am so stubborn to notice, acknowledge and move.
Roads need to be paved to be made into highways.
~ momsthetruth ~
It is clearer destination that I see. It is going somewhere. Words spoken are without jagged fences of defensiveness. More like flowers edging the boundaries. I receive them, and help to make the gardens organised. Prettier. With a flow. Rainbow explosions.
Maybe we can build a house in the meadow.
I only hope the garden will flourish. One day it will have an orchard of fruits and horses and cats. One day.
Edit: Redundancy of sentence.