three hundred-one.

and so, life came.

there's so much to be grasped
in the ducts of eyes that have seen
history's seams sewn into a quilt
made to blanket generations after with
stories of mistakes and successes -

to revel in the fact that life came so
abundantly
to you and
to me
is like fluttering against the glass of
broken windows and not being punctured.

we are walking stories,
we are creating our history
with every single breath we breathe and
every direction we travel honors the
choice we make because
when we create our stories,
it can partake in the glorious process
of being sewn into a quilt with
historical seams created from
our own
history.

subtleties of the sunshine.

photographed by m. osborne.

the sense of hope in one's crooked or slanted or tired smile is the strongest hope known to the mind of the hopeless.  because even in the towns of destitution that occupy the minds of those on the run, hope still slithers its sly self through the trenches of ... nothing.  no pressures from time.  no fear of lacking.  simply hoping ... trusting ... believing that the measures needed will be taken by Someone greater than you.  than i.  and in the depths of it all, those destitute towns begin to flourish with promising virtue and fruit.  aaah, what savory fruit has sprouted from beneath those feet that were aimlessly treading waters of defeat.  what joy has sprung from the crux of the valley and its desolate trails, with no hope for today's tail.  no need for many words.  there's just beauty that speaks volumes higher than the eagles soar.  stronger than the lion attacks.  more pleasant that your favorite hymn or melody.  that kind of beauty is found in the subtleties of the sunshine - when it quietly hides behind gray clouds, leading you to believe that the dim setting will settle and take over.  but that subtle smile from the sunshine, that's complexly presented to the world, will surprise you with a hope that lasts longer than thoughts drag on memories from months that no longer exist.  and all will gather and bask in the brilliance of its beaming rays and praise the Artist who created such promises and hopes.  no mind will be occupied with destitution.  instead, all will be occupied with a destination.  destination to forever.  forever in the presence of the Son.

• consider all creation (people and things),
• think much of others and less of self,
• process internally before speaking in a hurry,
• be tender and warm to your mistakes with full acknowledgment,
• hold fast to the little things,
• love inspiration as your own.

the mantra.

be obedient and create.

robbed the sun from the sky.

to be sincere, this fall has been so dear.

three hundred.

lilies endure the heat of the sun, too.

and you say you want to be prettier than the lily that
fought through and grew out of a field of weeds -
so you say,
you'd like to stand as high and as tall as the lily
that tore through and broke through the confines
of a lost youth,
skipped stages of produce -
but managed to still be beautiful just, to you.

you say you want to experience life on the cool side,
no heat, no warmth, just cool -

one thing you've got to realize is
energy comes from the sun -
the sun inspires the cool,
because without it, cool wouldn't exist.

and that lily recognized this -
which is why she rose,
even when the sun
deemed her
to be
sold
to the hot
rays
of the
treacherous
sun.

dance with love in your toes.

september's sunshine.

please, allow me to reintroduce myself.  i'm the woman i've always desired to be, today.  once was the girl tossed to and fro by the wind as it carried dust and debris and particles of lost dreams with it - now cradled gently in the arms of a Lover who saw fit to draw me closer and to make me new.  and the place i've been brought to can't be compared or matched by any word or thought.  any place.  any.  thing.  and i'm free.  i'm free.  i'm free.  walking with sunshine.  breathing slow with the breeze.  following the moves of dragonflies.  basking in the presence of nature's harmonious tunes.  speaking with the silence of the day.  i'm in a place that can't be matched or compared to anything.  anyone.  any place.  any word or thought.  i've arrived to a destination that is, finally, stable and substantial.  with no new roles and no new bodies.  just i.  just me.  my smile.  my body.  my mind.  my spirit.  my thoughts.  my words.  my prayers. my eyes.  my ears.  my total being.  brought to a place that can hold only my body - can hold only my breath.  a place where i can release my highest praise and not be ashamed, ever.  like water, i have become.  fluid.  easy.  flowing.  gentle.  quenching.  confident.  pleasing.  needed.  i am like water.  again.  but this time, in its purest form.

i'm light.  i'm moving.  i'm going.  i'm devoted.  i'm here.  i'm present.  i'm aware.  i'm everything i never was before.  i'm living.  i'm loving.  i'm hoping in a hope that does not disappoint.  i'm obedient.  i'm trusting.  i'm bubbly.  i'm uplifted.  i'm satisfied.  i'm dangerous (to all obstacles that may come my way because i have been awakened to the Light's calling).  i'm peaceful.  i'm awake.  i'm bearing.  i'm alive. and i'm so deep in love with who i have become.  easy and dancing with the breeze, like sundown.  beautiful like exhaling with the moon, i'm feeling.  and i am thankful that suffering has opened my eyes and has flushed out the marred perspective that had once made its home in my body.  i'm new.  restored.  refined.  redefined.  this is only the beginning - september's sunshine is giving birth to a new life that loves.  lives.  explores.  accepts.  changes.  and grows.  i'm thankful to be a part of its products.

• smile, always
• be free
• explore and encourage
• laugh and laugh and laugh
• read and write and read and write
• capture moments digitally
• breathe in and out, relentlessly.

two hundred-ninety nine.

repetition reprise.

there's nothing new
that rests beneath the sun -

in finding this to be true,
she stopped being surprised
with the same old news.

turning her blues into high yellows
and erasing the two lips with tulips
from the field of gracious green grass -

witnessing the growth of what that
never ending repetition produces, there
lies the acceptance of the idea that

there is nothing new
that rests beneath the sun.

two hundred-ninety eight.

never runs out.

the second you place
your feelings in the position
of authority - you lose control.

      mayhem takes flight.
      chaos mentally destroys you.

the second you place
Jesus in the position
of authority - you lose control.

      peace is impressed upon you.
      grace spiritually restores you.

                                                       He'll never run out on us.

the touch of time.

as time takes its familiar route around my life, i watch it pass while i live and see photographs in my memory of what has come and what has settled and what is still, framed in the present.  i slip into the soft edges of bliss each time i think about what beauty has crept into my spirit, so gently - so genuinely. when you feel the grip of care clench you around your heart, you freeze, frightened and in disbelief because the feeling seems to be foreign.  then, you begin to relax and melt into the palms of care and realize that it's ok.  it's safe.  there should not be a riled up emotion of scare.  so you exhale and begin to wrap your thoughts around the foreign feeling, following its lead and taking it as it is, nothing more, nothing less. this time, time collected a newness - something afresh.  a sensation that hasn't been tampered with, hasn't been exposed, one that is nameless and unknown.  my soul breathes it in as if it were its only source of fine oxygen to be sustained.  time.  

time has delivered a pair, two pairs, three singing pairs of eyes that harmonize so delightfully with the breeze that summer refuses to neglect and my soul dances to its melody.  my soul dances without resistance.  my soul dances and dances and dances until its weary limbs fall back into the grip of care's palms that are made up of sparkling jewels of peace.  a tenderness that is so often missed by the emptiness of daunting desires, mistaken for the fullness of virtuous value.  those palms, that clasped the brim of a heart that's been used for entertainment's sake, juggled until it was near its break, cradled it so carefully near its own bosom and reassured it of its safety.  my heart.  those palms.  what bliss my heart has landed in.  what euphoria my heart has been blanketed with.  what rapture my soul has been taken into.  and without any questions, i travel, following the Light that has guided me in and out of the darkness of danger.

no words can explain what time has brought down this rugged road i've traveled and trekked for as long as time has allowed.  but i've learned that my finish line is farther than miles can be calculated.  love won't leave my side - love won't dash from the view of my heart's eyes.  one day at a time, because time refuses to be passed by.  and i've learned that time won't let passion be burned away.  ashes don't exist for passion. passion is long lasting and ready to own what's thrown at its disposal.  it's living in me and through me, driving me to places i've longed to be, and would value to envision.  passion, its stability is free.  time has delivered an adventure of life and love my way - so here i am.  i'm here and there's no time for me to dissipate.  

• love every single moment,
• support those who are broken,
• care like it's necessary to live,
• explore crafts that have rested,
• reflect personally and privately,
• value, with fullness, every word that showers you,
• live as if life is personally pleading you to.

two hundred-ninety seven.

unfamiliarity.

there's a world that has
been born inside of
her womb, that
she can't
make sense of -

its existence lacks sense
and its presence lacks sense.

it has been born on the inside
of her, craving to escape but
it just keeps on
turning.

so, she waits.

aspire higher.

mo' jazz.

we need more jazz in the world - more tunes that don't tell us what to do, how to think, what to feel - we need more lyric-less vibes driving through our minds, so we can create more and copy less.  we need more inspiration.  mo' inspiration . no more fabrication . more critical thinkers.  more jazz.  we need mo' jazz.

"i could write a song."

two ninety-seven.

sparkling soul.

mundane and doomed.
they tagged your soul with
adjectives that mirrored the
grim reaper, with his cowardice,
black and daunting robe - they tried
to match your soul with his existence ---

you remained persistent, in your race and your
claim to realness.  to claim the name you
undoubtedly identified with, how your soul should be
characterized - you fought for that title.

you refused to back down and bow down to
doom, because light exudes from your inside
from the inside of your soul, the soul they attempted
to steal and seal in the palm of their hands.

but you were so damned persistent and you resisted!
you almost fainted, but you balled up those tears and
turned them into a gas that pushed you and kept you
and lifted you and met you where you were striving to be -

in the midst of a peace that was unattainable amongst
a crowd that lived to see you down - you made it.

and at this point, you inch to turn around
no longer wincing, but boldly standing
and staring and peering into the memories
that once ruled your body and tagged you
such unfitting descriptions -

and you listen, and you whisper to yourself,
"i'm new.  it's through.  i'm fearless.  this, this is it."

how You can breathe life into me , and take my breath away - all at the same time.

it's amazing to me.

wander, real.

sunshine - shine.

elevation, graduation.

"young girl, take your eyes off of those pebbles - there's so much ahead of you and around you, the ground holds none of it.  pick up those deep, round, almond eyes and explore what has been set before you!"  pick up those deep, round, almond eyes, there is so much ahead of me (and around me) that i must explore.  and i will.

it still has not hit me that i've traveled through a valley, sought the mountaintop and reached its peak, from the depth of that never ending valley.  the journey, oh the journey, was more pressing than i expected but so valuable.  it was.  they were.  and i could write your eyes away with tales of this journey, until they leaked of the ink i use to scribe.  but i won't.  the stories are too precious.  the valley is so sacred.  to me.  as well as yours is to you.  but i digress.  the view from up top ... i promise, it's breath-giving.  no.  not breathtaking.  because i'm no longer losing.  i lost enough along the trails of the immeasurable valley's i trekked.  it's breath-giving.  this mountaintop, is allowing me to breathe.  like never before.  air so crisp, so fresh like a warm piece of clothing pulled out of the washateria's dryer - (with a brisk scent of linen fabric softener) - warm and soft and lovely and fresh and pleasant and ... crisp.

and this is not to say that the valley did not have its plains of beauty.  i mean, each moment i took my eyes off of the pebbles beneath my feet, i glanced at hills that led to the highest peak - the mountaintop. i saw vegetation that glimmered as though they were sprinkled with gold and silver and ... peace, in the midst of havoc.  tornadoes spun.  tsunamis flooded.  huger struck.  but serenity was found in the beauty that caught my eyes once i took them off of the pebbles beneath my feet.  and o', it was a sight to see, around me, in the valley.  the valley was the beauty that preluded the mountaintop.  the peak.

as i elevated, my feet were worn.  my eyes became jaded.  my hands were weary.  my body, flail.  however, in this state, i continued to elevate.  Strength met me at every second i desired so deeply to drop.  Strength did not want me to stop because, "those deep, round, almond eyes" were given directives to "explore what [had] been set before [me]."  and i was determined to allow my eyes to receive their reward - this privilege could not be taken for granted (especially after being exposed to the daunting, gut-wrenching news of 20 twinkling stars being slain, flooding in bloodshed, missing the opportunity of meeting their privilege to shine), i could not take it for granted.

and at some point, my walking turned into gliding - i felt lighter.  i became a tenant to that valley, but thankfully i was evicted.  upon that eviction, i was elevated.  to a higher place.  to a peak.  a place called graduation.  and i've graduated from that valley of beauty and disdain.  a valley filled with wrong turns and memories of moods that towered over me, and many others.  i've graduated from trees with oaks that landed by you.  and i graduated from bridges that came before i knew their names.  i was lifted.  i glided to graduation.  long stretch - years of reaching, but i reached it.  and love never felt this good.

love has never felt this good - once i reached the top, and everything came to the light.  those hands, those eyes, those feet, that body ... they met a breath-giving peak that healed their weaknesses.  Love healed.  Love heals.  

"welcome to graduation.  the wait was long.  the journey, longer.  but the peak, well worth the wait and the journey.  eventually, breath came to give those lungs of yours life again, crisp life.  unusual, different ... but destined.  allow those almond eyes to take in all of what the world treasures and wants to share with you, and your heart.  the world is now at your disposal.  congratulations.  you've made it."

• leap, gain, learn, and go -

... and at some point, you begin to feel stronger.  you walk different.  you think different.  you see different.  and it's not because you've just now become different.  it's because you're enlightened now by the difference that has been reborn from what you deemed torn.  you have been different.  you simply are, different.

marierosewrites.

she glittered and she glued her spirit to the art of words - her expression stood tall, high above skyscrapers and doves that sought peace in unreachable places.  she was a gem that had been dusted off by paragraphs and sentences written by authors in freshman lectures.  grew and still growing into her own, she owns her expression and spreads volumes of heavy scripts and thoughts on blank slips we refer to as loose leaf sheets ... of paper.  take a look at her journey on this trail and enjoy.