 |
| a woman's story of hair. |
SACRED MOMENTS
In a world filled with too many bodies but too little
minds
In our race to beat the next deadline...
Do you ever notice those tiny moments:
When you catch a glimpse of our being
Like the little smile from that old woman when you
buy her ware without bargaining.
Like the fleeting moment of recognition when you
lock eyes with a stranger.
Like the flutter in your heart any time you hear that
song.
Like the tears that clouds your eyes whenever you see an act of
kindness in movie.
Like the grin that spreads across your face when you
hit that ‘Like’ button because you relate to this
poem.
It is amazing to realize how much our seemingly little
acts reverberates across the universe.
Victhur Ihuka
In a world filled with too many bodies but too little
minds
In our race to beat the next deadline...
Do you ever notice those tiny moments:
When you catch a glimpse of our being
Like the little smile from that old woman when you
buy her ware without bargaining.
Like the fleeting moment of recognition when you
lock eyes with a stranger.
Like the flutter in your heart any time you hear that
song.
Like the tears that clouds your eyes whenever you see an act of
kindness in movie.
Like the grin that spreads across your face when you
hit that ‘Like’ button because you relate to this
poem.
It is amazing to realize how much our seemingly little
acts reverberates across the universe.
Victhur Ihuka
 |
| breast as sacred art. |
No comments:
Post a Comment