Memories can be our closest entities of comfort or the vivid instigators of our most tempestuous impulses; can be the light at the end of the tunnel or the hidden rock inside of that dark crevice that makes us tumble and bruise our sense of self. Beauty it is is to have the capacity for such a dual reality of any one given thing, of any one given remembrance; beauty it is to have learned so simply in a world so complicated, through the memories of a single life's journey. Every grain of every sac, every skill of every effort, every taste of every sensation remains only so because it has chosen, through the mind of its capturer, to yield to its journeys intentions at the advent of it being. All of everything is the all of anything, it is the swaying heart, the beating soul, the dancing mind of all that it is. Beauty is you because you, through all the distractions of your memories, have come out on the other side naked and alive.
Te Adoreo Hermano
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