“The moon brings in the ghost of the past, embody the rays of sun’s warmth into the cold ghost for illuminating the moon.”

I affirmed each sunrise, that I would attain my power back slowly but surely by being bold and letting go of my fear.

I tamed the dragon, that had a heart of a marshmallow, with eyes that glowed with naughtiness.

The connection is protected within the shells of deep water, that harness the adorned pearl of their love and life.

My soul gathers the breaths of my sanity and beholds them in the jar like fireflies on a dark night.

I affirmed that I would choose freedom and valuing my emotions through the ink of my pen and enlightenment of the soul.

Never, ever, again, test me, or else the volcanic eruption of my patience and power can melt you into ashes.

I pledge to gather the dust and particles of my yesteryear’s burnt-out galaxies of memories until they transform into medals of victory in the museum of my life.

Her breaths are filled with magic, and the veins sparkling with his kisses.

I affirm to water my soul soil, cleanse my air, break the cage of flames to warmth and light my path, let water help me flow flawlessly.

I am a mere traveler on the outskirts of this world, tiptoeing and preparing for my eternal home that my mother nurtured me with, that has the scent of paradise and soil of my ancestors.

My guidance is from the rays of hope that are instilled in my pores and from the priceless beams of faith.

My heart metamorphoses with the swift changes of my ever-developing soul and mind.

Life experiences are like pollen grains, scattered and found in the arcades of wounds which are soulless but colorful like a rainbow.

My heartbeats have filled the directions and glory of love that I receive from him, a meaningful positive calm filled aura in being his.

I stood in the face of fear, with the smirk on my face, baiting it to have a go, so that I can embed my soul in the very aura that kept threatening my sanity.

I am a woman who isn’t enough to be held within the box of mediocrity and rules.

Love is the bridge that leads from the I sense to the We, and there is a paradox about personal love.

A father can do neither. If only sons could see the paradox, they would understand the dilemma.

If our lives are dominated by a search for happiness, then perhaps few activities reveal as much about the dynamics of this quest – in all its ardour and paradoxes – than our travels.

There are an infinite number of patterns, some of which are known; those still unknown hold the key to unresolved enigmas and paradoxes.

The paradox is that when resistance is fully accepted, the resistance disappears.

This is the paradox and the genius of our Canadian civilization.

Man is an embodied paradox, a bundle of contradictions.

We are caught up in a paradox, one which might be called the paradox of conceptualization.