something about the universe

I woke up this morning to a full moon, and without feeling the heaviness of emotional strain. I could see my breath, and I wondered what else about me would be more visible in this season. I didn’t think winter would be a new chapter for me. nothing happens in winter. the mornings are colder and crueller, and the workload could easily be mistaken for the ever expanding universe. except when I stare into the sky at night I don’t dread what is next or what to expect. cosmic expectation is masochistic, and if self-love is to ever eventually bloom I’d need to be working towards an inner celestial nirvana. it takes time to build, but I’m focusing on the bricks I have and not the ones I don’t. it gets tiring when doubt alters my vision of the end, and I’m left wondering how I ever saw anything in myself. my conscience and its newly adopted laissez-faire approach to blocking negative thinking does me no good, but I discover every day that little joys are soul sating. enough to lift my rocket into space, and enough to keep me grounded and thankful. the simple pleasure of enjoying everything I could is irreplaceable. living consciously helps me sleep easier.

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