Tag: books

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The Many Faces of Being

beatrizesmer

Between heartbeats, I exist. Not as a fixed entity, but as a chameleon of existence. I am always as you see me—fluid, mutable, and unyielding. I can be something or everything. When dawn tiptoes across the sky, I am the dew-kissed petal, fragile and hopeful. Yet, when the moon hangs heavy, I become the vastness of the cosmos, stitching constellations into stories. I can be the sun shining or the thunder roaring. In the golden hours, I am the sun’s warm embrace, casting shadows that dance upon the earth. But when tempests gather, I transform into the electric fury of … Continue reading The Many Faces of Being

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Passion vs. Fanaticism

beatrizesmer

In the grand theater of life, two characters often take the stage – the ‘Passionate’ and the ‘Fanatic’. They may seem similar, but they are as different as day and night. The ‘Passionate’ is a vibrant soul, full of eagerness and earnestness. They are like a river, flowing freely, open to the twists and turns of life. Their passion is a flame that illuminates their path and the paths of others. They welcome questions, for they see them as opportunities to learn, to grow, to ignite sparks of understanding in the darkness of ignorance. On the other hand, the ‘Fanatic’ … Continue reading Passion vs. Fanaticism

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The Feast of Words

beatrizesmer

In the quiet corners of the library, where the scent of aged paper lingered like a delicate perfume, there I found my sanctuary. The books, with their spines lined up like soldiers at attention, beckoned me to explore the worlds contained within their pages. I approached them with reverence, as one might approach the altar of knowledge, ready to partake in the sacred ritual of reading. I ate them like salad, crisp and refreshing, each page a leaf of lettuce bursting with the flavors of far-off lands and long-gone times. Books were my sandwich for lunch, layers of history and … Continue reading The Feast of Words

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A love like a brook

beatrizesmer

Love, in its purest form, should be like a brook. It meanders, winding its way through the landscape of our hearts, carving a path that is uniquely its own. It does not feel guilt for not following a straight line, for it understands that the journey of love is not about the shortest distance between two points, but about the richness of the experiences along the way. The brook knows that its destiny is to become one with the sea. It does not resist this fate, but embraces it, understanding that this is the natural progression of its journey. Similarly, … Continue reading A love like a brook

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Our Lives, Woven in Small Hours

beatrizesmer

In the quiet cradle of dawn, where dew-kissed petals unfurl, our lives emerge—a delicate tapestry spun from threads of existence. These small hours, unassuming and tender, hold secrets whispered by the universe. The Little Wonders: They tiptoe through our days, these little wonders. The sun’s first blush on morning leaves, the laughter of children chasing butterflies, the scent of rain on thirsty earth—they nestle within our souls. Each heartbeat, a testament to their magic. We collect them like seashells along the shore, stringing them into necklaces of memory. Twists of Fate: Ah, the cosmic weaver! With nimble fingers, fate dances across our … Continue reading Our Lives, Woven in Small Hours

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Let us cast aside the yoke of servitude

beatrizesmer

In the fleeting hours, where moments slip like sand through grasping fingers, it is time to break free from the shackles of servitude to the relentless march of time. Let us abandon the role of martyred slaves and instead embrace the intoxicating liberation that beckons us. Be ceaselessly drunk, not on the passing minutes and hours, but on the heady elixirs that stir the soul. Whether it be the crimson nectar of wine, its velvety depths swirling with stories untold, or the enchanting verses of poetry that dance upon the mind like whispers of the wind. Or perhaps, let us … Continue reading Let us cast aside the yoke of servitude

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You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me

beatrizesmer

You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me. I weave their words and actions into stanzas and verses, creating a masterpiece of their essence and soul. Before they even speak, I can feel the rhythm of their being, the cadence of their existence. Every glance, every gesture, every breath becomes a line in the symphony of their presence. I find beauty in the way they move, the way they speak, the way they exist in this world. And so, I paint them with my words, capturing the essence of their being in the … Continue reading You see, I have this habit of turning people into poetry before they touch me

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Writing is like a gateway drug to life altering passion …

beatrizesmer

He spoke to me with a voice that carried weight, a weight that held the power to change my fate. His words were like a symphony, each note carefully crafted to create a melody. He said to me, “Writing is like a gateway drug to life altering passion.” At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. But as he continued to speak, I felt my heart begin to beat with a newfound intensity. He explained that writing was the first step, the first taste of something greater. It was the spark that ignited the fire within, the seed that would … Continue reading Writing is like a gateway drug to life altering passion …

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I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul

beatrizesmer

In a world veiled in guarded hearts and fearful whispers, I find solace in the rawness of souls laid bare. There’s a certain magic in the vulnerability of unguarded hearts, a symphony of authenticity that resonates with the deepest chambers of my being. I think I fall in love, just a little bit, with anyone who peels back the layers of their soul, revealing the intricate tapestry of their essence. In the midst of a world that often conceals its true nature, I am drawn to the unfiltered truth that flows from the depths of a person’s spirit. There’s a … Continue reading I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul

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Reader …

beatrizesmer

I read you, like a well-worn book on a dusty windowsill, where the rain taps gently on the glass, and the scent of coffee mingles with the cool air of a spring morning. Each drop of rain heralds the promise of a new beginning, and the bittersweet farewell to what has passed. You are the pages of an open book, inviting me to lose myself within your story. As I take a sip of coffee, its warmth seeps into my soul, intertwining with the words that beckon me to read you, to feel you. I am drawn into your narrative, … Continue reading Reader …