Heres Estrella

More Stars than There are

Tag: flowers

Spring Forgives

Spring was late to smile upon us this year—Her sweetness felt shorter than usual, yet it was just as reassuring as the all the eternal Hope that She embodies. We shall take in full Gratitude what Grace, regardless of how ephemeral,  that She has kindly imparted upon all of us—whether we opened our sleeping eyes to See or not.

A Butterfly Effect

in capturing these blossoms gracefully—she does not know it yet, but a step towards abolishing imprisoning motifs—ones that dictated nothing pretty would ever come out of her fingers and palms, had already taken place, carved deep and sturdy into the clockworks of Fate

Motifs

the same notion can present itself in millions of ways, and we will never cease to be fascinated by it—for all the good reasons in living

Summer

                                          to cherish it is our only right

Silent Saviors

even in much direction-less times, there are those who come to aid with their calming whispers

Hidden in Dusk

where_no_one_sees

                                   blossoming quietly in the backstreets

A Study In Pink

img_6453

short lived gems of early spring; silent and swift they will perish in the inevitable visit of the dousing winds

A Quiet Afternoon

I stood, and waited, in silence--as the nearby youths played--I took deep breaths that drew no sounds. Later that day, I sat and enjoyed a piece of flan. It was a good day.

I stood, and waited, in silence–as the nearby youths played in their spring-time zest–I took deep breaths that drew no sounds. Later that day, I sat and enjoyed a piece of flan. It was a good day. 

Windowsill On which We Live.

 a new life in the same jar

                                              a new life in the same jar

On Receiving Flowers

You were told
To close your eyes,

So you do–
Without suspicion,

Eye-lids
Shut
In an automatous,
Curious flutter–

Then,
A miniature
Bouquet
Lay
Beautifully
Delicate
In your hands.

Fresh, delightful,
And fragile–
Too good
Were they, for
Your more wicked
Self cringed
At their sight–

Exuding a new gleam
In that cold night,
In your hands
A gentle cradle
of Love and Joy;

Some of which
You still
Cannot understand–

Like a sound
Of Redeeming
Purity
Amidst a fallen
Mecca-full
Of deafened
Drums.

A dose of sweet medicine,
Leaving you blessed and terrified—
Were you sick
Before,
And were you
Only then,

Upon inhaling Innocence
And Scent,
Finally beginning to,

Through
Great Effort,
Wakened from an
Ageless Neglect,
Overcome

Your Fatal
Illness,
And become Well
To and for all
Once again?