Less Is More
Fine details serve purpose over bountiful details
Less is more
Contentment is fruitful
For what you have is enough
Displeasure is futile and bleak
Untold misery awaits at your door
With just one peek
Less is more
The hands of the clocks are suddenly moving slowly
And time is exquisite
Distraction seeks to be honored obsessively
Incessantly in valuable places
Many different faces that deserve praises
Events will not repeat as this is all just phases
That will become obsolete
Less is more
Energy is abundantly restored
Something we forget to explore
In our chaos, we are destroyed
There is no room to rejoice
When our minds are filled with so much noise
Less is more
Confined,
Aligned,
Kind,
Now thatโs peace of mind
Less is more
Worries of the next big thing
Relentlessly treading by a string
I must do this...
I must get this...
Is not easy to resist but the one thing we miss
Is our everlasting bliss if none of this stuff exists
About the Creator
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More stories from ๐๐ถ๐พ๐๐ฝ๐ถ ๐ฒ. and writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
So true! And written in such a lovely way!