by Jason

There are one thousand years of solitude inside of my soul, one thousand years of contentment, isolation, and development.

Is this not solitude?  Moving forward.

Striving upward.


But sometimes quickly.

I do not claim to be a saint but neither do I believe I am a sinner.

There are one thousand memories of beauty inside my head, one thousand years of loving, desperation, and making changes.

Is this much like beauty?  Changing.


But often resilience.

I did not say forever but neither do I believe in perfection.

No my sunshine, no heaven is not real.

Yet, may you ever remember, yet may you always know life is wonderful.