“The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.”

I learned that the world didn’t see the inside of you, that it didn’t care a whit about the hopes and dreams, and sorrows, that lay masked by skin and bone. It was as simple, as absurd, and as cruel as that.

Beauty is an enormous, unmerited gift given randomly, stupidly.

People say that eyes are windows to the soul.

Of all the hardships a person had to face, none was more punishing than the simple act of waiting.

A pathetic shadow, torn between her envy and thrill of being seen with Masomma, sharing in the attention as a weed would, lapping up water meant for the lily upstream.

Time can be a greedy thing-sometimes it steals the details for itself.

They say, Find a purpose in your life and live it. But, sometimes, it is only after you have lived that you recognize your life had a purpose, and likely one you never had in mind.

Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always.

What good is regret? It brings back nothing. What we have lost is irretrievable.

Some stories don’t need telling.

Nothing good came free. Even love. You paid for all things. And if you were poor, suffering was your currency.

All good things in life are fragile and easily lost.

I should have been more kind. That is something a person will never regret. You will never say to yourself when you are old, Ah, I wish I was not good to that person. You will never think that.

I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.

War doesn’t negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace.

She said, ‘I’m so afraid.’ And I said, ‘why?,’ and she said, ‘Because I’m so profoundly happy, Dr. Rasul. Happiness like this is frightening.’ I asked her why and she said, ‘They only let you be this happy if they’re preparing to take something from you.

Be proud of a body that bares the burden of being buried only to bloom.

Bloom for the bee, not for the hands that want to pluck you.

Today I am broken but tomorrow I will be gentle, I will be kind and i will bloom again.

My soul was left with a cosmic radiance, blooming into wildflowers.

Let’s always bloom, savor and delight others with our beauty.

Your smile is watching a flower bloom in love. Shy at first, then your brightness unfolds and you magically decorate the world with your flashy hues.

Flowers only wither to bloom again. So shall you break, only to be whole again.

My wings of hope unfurl soaring through the broken battlefields of life. On a journey to plant myself and bloom in iridescent rays of reverie.