The weather doesn't look after storylines with the good stuff.
It doesn't keep plans safe from being turned upside down.
And it doesn't only perform on a stage after asking for permission.
But it does embody the property of experiences.
It does repeat the familiar based upon rumors and opinions.
And it does inhale the price of every single one of those moments.
Events that keep on giving long after they have passed.
Circumstances that have been trained to take before thoughts can even respond.
And episodes that punish as if they are predicting the artwork before it has been created.
As if their job is to lay us down with their vibrations.
To be the words that fade-out possibilities.
To hold the lines that unhappy is the results of a lack of success along the way.
The weather, after all, is always going to detail how weather-beaten moves.
How portraits are reproduced on pages, concealing the view of being worthy of care.
And how the shadows mask happiness so deeply that we are no longer comfortable with how it feels to the touch.
But what if we only believe that we are so close to the cost of our experiences that we can't shine anyways?
What if we only stand by success because its properties are easier to list than connecting love to catalogs of stuff that hold way more than we want?
What if we only let go because of the hope that yesterday's trail cameras will leave us alone in the tomorrows?
All gardens face losses but not all gardeners are prepared to cope with being lost in the weather of their very own mirrors.
To make a way back around for the versions that can no longer hold certain success but are worthy of care anyways.
To allow for the weather to just be the weather because building supports takes practice not perfection.
Gardeners have their reasons for the weather that pours out and the gardens translating that are the same gardens staying in touch with what it also means to be the gardener.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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