To some it would seem as a faltering picture of grace that sometimes seems without reverence. While to others, a beacon of truth for the harsh realities of our lives. But for the most part, congruent series of subtle occurrences that leads to utterance befitting of a life from which a story is to be told, a feeling to be claimed, or an emotion to be identified with.
Whenever I’m in the presence of such truths I cling to my spirit, because I know I’m being exposed to a part of grace. That is what flowers and virtuous women do for me. They represent a fleeting view of the true beauty and virtue of life. And just like any of life other beautiful contributions, their symbolism will forever live in the memory of all who were once inspired or perhaps intimately touched by their representation.
In truth, we’re only as vulnerable as that what we believe in. That is what defines us, and makes us who we are. If you truly wish to understand what becomes of lasting virtue and beauty, look for the humility that is inside hearts of the aging.
Love, or lack thereof, is of more evident in his or her eyes at that moment than any other time throughout their lives. For some there are places in their hearts that have taken in cherished moments of memories and is holding them in the ransom of their dignity.”
At this point my heart had begun beating in quickening intervals. I wondered if he could actually see it palpitating through my skin as its gradual change gave way to erratic beats. I started feeling flustered as I tried to disguise the tempered look that had suddenly donned my face. In attempt of diverting some of his attention away from my vulnerable state, I quickly closed my robe before taking a sip to ease the increasing panting.
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