Observations Of A Young Woman With An Old Soul

<p><strong style=color: rgba(34 34 34 1)>These poems are about the speckles of truth sprinkled throughout the acknowledgment of nature love the absence of it distractions and above all: faith. </strong><span style=color: rgba(34 34 34 1)>Isn't it ironic that it is easy to find lies in a search for the truth? When all the answers you search for outside don't satisfy the question the only choice is to beseech the divinity within. To observe life's happenings and pray that the road to freedom be lit and burn the invisible chains that incarcerate the mind. The path won't always be easy but you don't want it to be easy. You want it to be true. And sometimes the most authentic things are the quietest. To be an observer is to take on the feat of silencing judgment and fear so that existence can howl the answer you've been looking for all along. </span></p>