As the noise of what I imagine to be a thousand freshly crisped leaves falling , creeps up to my ambient soul, I find the need to run from the elders who bear their role.

I dare not look he in the eye, who knows, does, lives, and forgives. This is the path of the righteous man. For he need not to know the way to live.

While Colloquialisms can create confidential credibility among future creditors, the juice from an orange can also help your body to flourish like a cherry blossom upon the Japanese garden of inner Zen. These cans, mays, and rants are simply bland.

The spices have no assortment. The flavored funk is fragrantly adored. Nothing in this life goes unnoticed. The sun sets and the wind resurrects the unfilled souls. These same sullen sad clowns, help us to bear our holes.

Cease to gain control. Unfold. Tell the story that has yet to be told. Sit by a trickling source of water, waiting to grow old. The waiting shall do the waiting. Let the wait put the weight on you. Then if can wait on when and maybe become brothers of the pen.

Amen.

RaBidDoGzZ | Quartz Diamond (In my hand)

ILL FrEeSTyLe, “Otherwise, I just don’t know, how I’d go - to and fro”

Bar Refaeli is, “Hot & Hebrew”.

http://hothebrews.tumblr.com