Wednesday, April 18, 2012
With each dulcet step, carrying our enchanting melody like cherubs in a garden of roses, I sometimes prick the soles of my feet not watching such impetus advances. I do not know who has more control - our Ego? Our tongue? Or the little person inside our head talking to themselves and playing in the corner. Observation is the nature of the self; the self naturally looks like someone we have met before. "I am going to be graceful by the time fifty, I swear." I know I will. I just know it.