Paths Intertwined Quotes

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Once, very long ago, Time fell in love with Fate. This, as you might imagine, proved problematic. Their romance disrupted the flow of time. It tangled the strings of fortune into knots.  The stars watched from the heavens nervously, worrying what might occur. What might happen to the days and nights were time to suffer a broken heart? What catastrophes might result if the same fate awaited Fate itself? The stars conspired and separated the two. For a while they breathed easier in the heavens. Time continued to flow as it always had, or perhaps imperceptibly slower. Fate weaved together the paths that were meant to intertwine, though perhaps a string was missed here and there. But eventually, Fate and Time found each other again.  In the heavens, the stars sighed, twinkling and fretting. They asked the Moon her advice. The Moon in turn called upon the parliament of owls to decide how best to proceed. The parliament of owls convened to discuss the matter amongst themselves night after night. They argued and debated while the world slept around them, and the world continued to turn, unaware that such important matters were under discussion while it slumbered.  The parliament of owls came to the logical conclusion that if the problem was in the combination, one of the elements should be removed. They chose to keep the one they felt more important. The parliament of owls told their decision to the stars and the stars agreed. The Moon did not, but on this night she was dark and could not offer her opinion.  So it was decided, and Fate was pulled apart. Ripped into pieces by beaks and claws. Fate’s screams echoed through the deepest corners and the highest heavens but no one dared to intervene save for a small brave mouse who snuck into the fray, creeping unnoticed through the blood and bone and feathers, and took Fate’s heart and kept it safe. When the furor died down there was nothing else left of Fate.  The owl who consumed Fate’s eyes gained great site, greater site then any that had been granted to a mortal creature before. The Parliament crowned him the Owl King. In the heavens the stars sparkled with relief but the moon was full of sorrow. And so time goes as it should and events that were once fated to happen are left instead to chance, and Chance never falls in love with anything for long. But the world is strange and endings are not truly endings no matter how the stars might wish it so.  Occasionally Fate can pull itself together again.  And Time is always waiting.
Erin Morgenstern (The Starless Sea)
He moved my hand into his, and as our fingers intertwined, it occurred to me that love wasn’t all that I’d feared it to be. I had imagined that it was a wildfire that incinerated everything in its path. Instead, it felt as ordinary and extraordinary as waking up to a new day.
June Hur (The Red Palace)
Life is long, after all. And over time, the paths we take tend to intertwine and overlap.
Kelly Barnhill (The Ogress and the Orphans)
The Vagabond one told me what that clover symbol means. He said it represents the four primary roads you can take in life: happiness, hatred, success, and failure. They are balanced shoices, always intertwined with each other, and whichever of the four paths you take will lead you down another.
S.M. Boyce
Their story begins on ground level, with footsteps. They are myriad, but do not compose a series. They cannot be counted because each unit has a qualitative character: a style of tactile apprehension and kinesthetic appropriation. Their swarming mass is an innumerable collection of singularities. Their intertwined paths give their shape to spaces. They weave places together. In that respect, pedestrian movements form one of these 'real systems whose existence in fact makes up the city.' They are not localized; it is rather they that spatialize. They are no more inserted within a container than those Chinese character speakers sketch out on their hands with their fingertips.
Michel de Certeau (The Practice of Everyday Life)
But I also know of yet another life. I know and want it and devour it ferociously. It's a life of magical violence. It's mysterious and bewitching. In it snakes entwine while the stars tremble. Drops of water drip in the phosphorescent darkness of the cave. In that dark the flowers intertwine in a humid fairy garden. And I am the sorceress of that silent bacchanal. I feel defeated by my own corruptibility. And I see that I am intrinsically bad. It's only out of pure kindness that I am good. Defeated by myself. Who lead me along the paths of the salamander, the spirit who rules the fire and lives within it. And I give myself as an offering to the dead. I weave spells on the solstice, spectre of an exorcised dragon.
Clarice Lispector
Our lives are intricately intertwined. The cord that binds us is much stronger than I imagined. It’s now obvious to me that my success is tied to yours. Your light lightens my path. Your darkness obscures my sunshine. I can’t seem to rise faster or higher than your help. I can’t stand comfortably while you languish on the ground. My celebration is incomplete without yours. It’s sweeter when we share the podium than when I stand there alone. Knowing how crucial you are to my life and purpose, I am here sending you a notice - I am in your corner. Here is hoping you will be gracious enough to be in mine.
Abiodun Fijabi
Leonardo believed his research had the potential to convert millions to a more spiritual life. Last year he categorically proved the existence of an energy force that unites us all. He actually demonstrated that we are all physically connected… that the molecules in your body are intertwined with the molecules in mine… that there is a single force moving within all of us.” Langdon felt disconcerted. And the power of God shall unite us all. “Mr. Vetra actually found a way to demonstrate that particles are connected?” “Conclusive evidence. A recent Scientific American article hailed New Physics as a surer path to God than religion itself.
Dan Brown (Angels & Demons (Robert Langdon, #1))
It was a garden, a walled garden. Overgrown but with beautiful bones visible still. Someone had cared for this garden once. The remains of two paths snaked back and forth, intertwined like the lacing on an Irish dancing shoe. Fruit trees had been espaliered around the sides, and wires zigzagged from the top of one wall to the top of another. Hungry, wisteria branches had woven themselves around to form a sort of canopy. Against the southern wall, an ancient and knobbled tree was growing. Cassandra went closer. It was the apple tree, she realized, the one whose bough had reached over the wall. She lifted her hand to touch one of the golden fruit. The tree was about sixteen feet high and shaped like the Japanese bonsai plant Nell had given Cassandra for her twelfth birthday.
Kate Morton (The Forgotten Garden)
Once, very long ago, Time fell in love with Fate. This, as you might imagine, proved problematic,” the voice continues. “Their romance disrupted the flow of time. It tangled the strings of fortune into knots. The stars watched from the heavens nervously, worrying what might occur. What might happen to the days and nights were Time to suffer a broken heart? What catastrophes might result if the same fate awaited Fate itself? The stars conspired and separated the two. For a while they breathed easier in the heavens. Time continued to flow as it always had, or perhaps imperceptibly slower. Fate wove together the paths that were meant to intertwine, though perhaps a string was missed here and there. But eventually,” the storyteller continues, “Fate and Time found each other again.
Erin Morgenstern (The Starless Sea)
Teddy wandered amongst the graves. Most of the people in them had died long before his time. Ursula was picking up conkers from the stand of magnificent horse chestnuts at the far end of the churchyard. They were enormous trees and Teddy wondered if their roots had intertwined with the bones of the dead, imagined them curling a path through ribcages and braceleting ankles and fettering wrists. When
Kate Atkinson (A God in Ruins)
Was it the haunting melancholy etched upon her features or the unspoken stories hidden within her eyes? The countless strangers I encountered daily had never seeped into the corridors of my mind with such tension. It was as if the universe, in its infinite wisdom, had conspired to intertwine our paths, nudging me toward the enigma that was she. Was this a fleeting infatuation or a genuine connection waiting to unfurl? The answers eluded me, floating just beyond the grasp of comprehension.
Asif Hossain (Serenade of Solitude)
Only birds and the chittering and rustling of small animals sounded as I entered the still green western forest. I'd never ridden through these woods on my hunts with Lucien. There was no path here, nothing tame about it. Oaks, elms, and beeches intertwined in a thick weave, almost strangling the trickle of sunlight that crept in through the dense canopy. The moss-covered earth swallowed any sound I made. Old- this forest was ancient. And alive, in a way that I couldn't describe but could only feel, deep in the marrow of my bones. Perhaps I was the first human in five hundred years to walk beneath those heavy dark branches, to inhale the freshness of spring leaves masking the damp, thick rot.
Sarah J. Maas (A Court of Thorns and Roses (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #1))
The corporate system is interconnected and now share a common invested interest, the ability to control through business, the people. It is an inevitable path the parameters set will take the beast down following the easiest way to collective profits, to control the ones that provide them. It is also logical to protect your own, from ones that are shedding light through Art on the grey water they may have stepped into to reach their fullest profit potentials. It is the logical solution to what would be, just business. So the Matrix story albeit written to lift for all the ceiling of what is possible, has inevitably shined a light on the entire path that was chosen and the pre-chosen road ahead that collective corporations were on creating a separate state of politically connected elite and those seeking award through serving them. A natural progression of what was set in place from the beginning. The flaw was in the design of the collective corporate system, globally intertwined now, and immersed in politics, protecting its own, making the question real this time, how to balance the equation.
Tom Althouse (The Frowny Face Cow)
Have you been travelling, my young friend? Come in out of the darkness and rain. Sit by the fire, eat, drink and rest yourself. Life is one long journey from beginning to end, you know. We all walk different roads, both with our bodies and our minds. Some of us lose heart and fall by the wayside, whilst others go on to realise their dreams and desires. Let me tell you a story of travellers, and the paths they followed. Of young ones, like yourself, sometimes uncertain of their direction, and often reluctant to listen to the voices of sense and wisdom. Of a mighty warrior, set on a course of destiny and vengeance, unstoppable in his resolve. Of an evil one and his crew, cruel and ruthless, bound on a march of destruction and conquest. Of a simple maid and her friends, homebodies whose only aims were peace and well-being for all. Of wicked, foolish wanderers, chasing fantasies and fables, consumed by their own greed. Of small babes who dreamed small dreams, not knowing what the future held in store for them. And, finally, of two friends, faithful and true, who had roamed many highways and together chose their own way. The lives I will tell you of are intertwined by fate—good and evil bringing their just rewards to each, as they merited them. Listen whilst I relate this story. For am I not the Teller of Tales, the Weaver of Dreams!
Anonymous
The word 'Dorf' lies, although the Dablem Dorf station is covered with straw. Arabian students hang out in front of the entrance to the underground, and only the German kiosk of the kabob seller clues us in that the bus did not arrive through a secret passage and set us down in Morocco. The University buildings are hidden among trees, intertwining paths and signposts, which exclude each other. The arrow points to another arrow 3 m away, which is pointing back, perpendicular to the first. With signs making sure no one can get lost during his search, he searches and searches and it seems entirely irrelevant that he can never find the place he is searching for by tracing the signs. A Mobius strip, the circular blindness of the streets, and exhausted Minotaur are harbingers of the paths of this place, which only multiply behind the revolving door of the Ethnological Museum.
Aleš Šteger (Berlin)
April 3 There is an obvious progression in the revelation of God for His people and an increase in His manifest Presence and glory. GOD MEANT IT when He said, “Of the increase of His government and of peace there will be no end” (Isa. 9:7). There has only been increase since those words were spoken. More and more, on earth as it is in Heaven is becoming a reality in our midst. We have to adjust how we think and see to not only realize it but cooperate with what God is doing. His Kingdom is one of increase and expansion. This work will continue until Numbers 14:21 comes to pass: “all the earth shall be filled with the glory of the Lord.” Again Scripture says of us, “But the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn, that shines brighter and brighter until the full day” (Prov. 4:18 NASB). We should and must expect progress. After all, we are citizens of an unshakeable Kingdom that has no end. Our very purpose in life is intertwined with the in-breaking of God’s Kingdom and the unveiling of God’s glory. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, you have a vital role in being one who participates in the increase of His government. DAILY SCRIPTURE READING ISAIAH 9:1-7 PRAYER Father, thank You for the commission to be part of increasing Your Kingdom on the earth. Show me what this looks like in my life today and how I can spread Your goodness, love, joy, peace, healing, and justice in my sphere of influence.
Bill Johnson (Hosting the Presence Every Day: 365 Days to Unveiling Heaven's Agenda for Your Life)
Wow!” My whole body exploded with joy and excitement to see this magnificent sight. Overwhelmed by their presence, my stomach fluttered right along with them. Butterflies of every color, looking as if they were painted with patches of bold bright reds, oranges, blues, purples, and yellows, all intertwined, overlapping each other. As I continued to follow their path, I squinted at the brilliant sun in the cloudless sky. It blinded me for a split second, and then I saw that the butterflies were returning, circling around Michael and me—all of them dancing in the sky. Each knew its location and position with such precision, never colliding while reaching higher and higher to form a tunnel. Countless butterflies, circling around us, gave me chills as I could feel the air gently flowing from their wings. It was incredible to experience such beauty of color and grace so close within reach.
C. Gockel (Gods and Mortals: Thirteen Urban Fantasy & Paranormal Novels)
His intertwined understanding informed his professional path; his path informed an industry.
Mark Vail (The Synthesizer: A Comprehensive Guide to Understanding, Programming, Playing, and Recording the Ultimate Electronic Music Instrument)
I AM LEADING YOU along a way that is uniquely right for you. The closer to Me you grow, the more fully you become your true self—the one I designed you to be. Because you are one of a kind, the path you are traveling with Me diverges increasingly from that of other people. However, in My mysterious wisdom and ways, I enable you to follow this solitary path while staying in close contact with others. In fact, the more completely you devote yourself to Me, the more freely you can love people. Marvel at the beauty of a life intertwined with My Presence. Rejoice as we journey together in intimate communion. Enjoy the adventure of finding yourself through losing yourself in Me.
Sarah Young (Jesus Calling Morning and Evening, with Scripture References (Jesus Calling®))
Copulation of serpents determined my destiny. Boyish, unmanly, I ventured, adventured my way into forests primeval; glanced down in the dirt, in the dirt-trodden path, where I witnessed the scaly sinews of snakes intertwining in love...
Phillip Andrew Bennett Low (Monsters in a Mirror: Strange Tales from the Chapel Perilous)
It’s neither an invitation for more nor an affirmation of our bond nor any kind of expression or clarification of feelings. It’s deeper than that, as though the moment we kissed we were both opened up and laid bare as the people we really are. The same kind of people. Not human, exactly. Not Nahx. Not Snowflakes. Something older than that, something ancient and universal. Never enemies, more than friends, more than lovers, even. “Soul mates” isn’t quite right either. Intertwined. Two paths that cross and meet and split apart and come back together and get tangled and messy until no sense can be made of it anymore.
G.S. Prendergast
Their history would always be intertwined like a snarled knot of Devil's Snare. Fraught with tension, it stretched back from that fateful moment that they both received their Hogwarts letters and wrapped around them with a quiet grip. Forever entangled, their paths and choices continued to twist around each other until they were inexplicably linked. There was no changing it, no way to remove it completely, but there was something else. Something better. Acceptance.
Ambpersand (Contradictions)
Their history would always be intertwined like a snarled knot of Devil's Snare. Fraught with tension, it stretched back from that fateful moment that they both received their Hogwarts letters and wrapped around them with a quiet grip. Forever entangled, their paths and choices continued to twist around each other until they were inexplicably linked. There was no changing it, no way to remove it completely, but there was something else. Something better. Acceptance
Ambpersand (Contradictions)
Life is long, after all. And over time, the paths we take tend to intertwine and overlap.
Kathy Barnhill
Faintly rattled, Delphine rounded a curve in the path and found herself at the edge of clearing, the trees pulling back from a carpet of verdigris grass. They gave up the wildness of the wood here, tamed into symmetrically intertwined branches whose openings revealed more pale paths into the forest. The diffuse light of the forest concentrated here, as though emanating from hidden gas lamps. Delphine toed the boundary of what she now saw was an enormous fairy ring. A structure of pure white rose from the center of the ring, the beams arching like the bones of a cathedral, the space between filled with delicate filigree of brittle white. Windows like translucent dragonfly wings shone under cornices carved like birds and flowers and trailing vines. A castle, Delphine thought, or a church--- all the same emphasis and gravitas translated here, and something stranger and deeper.
Rowenna Miller (The Fairy Bargains of Prospect Hill)
I look back once again at Machu Picchu, a true testament to human resilience, a testament to the harmony between man and nature. It is a place where the earthly and the divine intertwine, where the mysteries of the cosmos are whispered through the stones. Here, one is humbled, transformed, and forever connected to the eternal dance of life.
Ryan Gelpke (Peruvian Days)
This much is clear: the defense of democracy in my country today is clearly intertwined with the four-hundred-year struggle of African Americans to participate in a polity that at last includes them in the democratic covenant on equal terms. This is one path ahead toward the defense of democracy from its Christian enemies—that is, the embrace of the dissident Black Christian democratic tradition, as articulated by leading Black thinkers since the beginning of our nation.
David P. Gushee (Defending Democracy from Its Christian Enemies)
Christian Nationalism, draped in the garb of faith, has veered off the path of true Christianity, morphing into a cult that distorts the very essence of its teachings. It preaches a dangerous narrative that intertwines political power with religious identity, blurring the lines between church and state, and sowing division instead of fostering love and understanding. This cult of Christian Nationalism replaces the universal message of love, compassion, and acceptance with an exclusivist agenda, promoting a distorted version of patriotism that excludes those who do not conform to their narrow ideology.
D.L. Lewis
Faith and mythology, in their profoundest sense, are the twin pillars that uphold the vast cathedral of human consciousness. They are the intertwined roots that nourish our understanding of existence, grounding us in the fertile soil of the unknown. Faith, is the audacious whisper in the heart of man, defying the chasm of uncertainty with its unwavering resonance. It is the audacity to trust in the unseen, to hear the unspoken, and to pursue the uncharted. It is the flame that illuminates the caverns of our deepest fears, casting shadows on our doubts, and lighting the path to our truest selves. Meanwhile, mythology is the grand tapestry we weave to contain the boundless cosmos within the finite landscapes of our minds. It is the narrative thread that stitches together the fabric of our collective consciousness, painting vibrant portraits of gods and monsters, of heroes and villains, of creation and destruction. Mythology gives form to faith, translating the abstract into the tangible, the divine into the comprehensible, the eternal into the temporal. It is the language of symbols, narrating the timeless tales of the human spirit dancing with the cosmos' infinite possibilities. Yet, both faith and mythology are but reflections in the mirror of existence, shimmering illusions that hint at a reality far beyond our comprehension. They are the echoes of the universe whispering its secrets to those daring enough to listen, the gentle lullabies that soothe our existential anxieties, the sweet honey that makes the bitter pill of the unknown more palatable. They are not the ultimate answers to life's mysteries, but the beautiful questions that keep us seeking, exploring, and wondering. They are the compass and the map, guiding us on our endless quest for truth, reminding us that the journey, not the destination, is the essence of existence.
D.L.Lewis
Beneath the archways, where shadows play, As the world gives way, begin the odyssey. Uncertainty weaves into the grand scheme of life, A mystical altar, where destinies are intertwined. I walk the path, seeking the balm of solace, Enduring burden, sweet hymn of love. With hopes gone, a peace is about to descend, Still the echoes remain, they dissolve in silence. The flawed script in the story I wrote, Whispers of well-being, truths worth absorbing. "I'm fine," I say, a deceptive glare, Exposing the lies, an invisible love. A waltz with shadows on your street, Cynic's steps, very judicious dance. Terrible notions, a conspiracy unfolds, Regret is echoing at the threshold of love. Rumors of happiness, far-fetched, As I stumble in the field of love. In excess, I stumble and strain, Hope of solace, of regaining love. Did I stumble in that fleeting call? Huge weakening of pride, slow decline of strength. A gift given, deemed inadequate, In closeness, bonds become inadequate. A crazy search for a cure for love, Wandering aimlessly, purpose uncertain. Your realm echoes with such blasphemous footsteps, In the despair of the night, capricious dreams. Happiness, heard a rumor softly, As I wrestle with love like a flightless bird. Juggling too much reduces the weight of love, In the noise of love, a desperate clown. The desire to turn back, the love to amend, Unraveling habits, unraveling at every turn. A desperate attempt, from the quagmire of love, Hope you find love worth savoring. Guide me, let salvation begin, A chance to improve, a revenge for love. To improve, habits have to be broken, A self-calculating, striving soul. Thoughts entangled in the hopeful vision of love, A chance to improve, a decision of love. Witness the transformation, let it happen, Inspire it, in the dance of love's liberation. Let me enter again, a door a little ajar, A love rebuilt, a healing star. Watch as love appears, watch, In the relaxation of love, a story retold. I keep dreaming, maybe, just maybe, Love's embrace, waving destiny. With every step forward, love is becoming free, Self-made agreement, the decree of love.
Manmohan Mishra
Our paths intertwine with so many people, but there’s a meaningful gap between the real ones and those just passing through.
Tariq Trotter (The Upcycled Self: A Memoir on the Art of Becoming Who We Are)
They were so many things to one another: lovers, friends, adversaries at times . . . but they loved each other so deeply, so unapologetically, that it was parental in a sense. Liberty may as well have been A’shai’s mother and he her father, because they had made one another. Their love had been birthed . . . their union blessed . . . their lives’ paths intertwined.
Ashley Coleman (Murderville: First of a Trilogy)
Children are so remarkable because they are the humans in whom the unconscious and conscious minds are so closely intertwined. For several years, the unconscious mind is dominant in children and then gradually consciousness rises up in power and finally takes over. The child’s mind is an incredible laboratory for the study of the science of consciousness. Uniquely, with children, the rise of consciousness can be tracked, and the gradual subordination of the unconscious to consciousness followed. With this priceless knowledge, we can work out how to achieve the holy grail: to be able to use consciousness and be adults, while also retaining or recovering the paranormal powers of the unconscious. To be conscious humans able to routinely exercise paranormal powers would put us on the path to divinity.
Rob Armstrong (Children See Dead People: Children's Spooky Powers)
Tania,” Alexander said amiably, “I promise, I will just feed you and send you home. Let me feed you, all right?” Holding the bags in one hand, he placed the other hand on her hair. “It’s for your birthday. Come on.” She couldn’t go, and she knew it. Did Alexander know it, too? That was even worse. Did he know what a bind she found herself in, what unspeakable flux of feeling and confusion? They crossed the Field of Mars on their way to the Summer Garden. Down the street the river Neva glowed in the sunlight, though it was nearly nine o’clock in the evening. The Summer Garden was the wrong place for them. Alexander and Tatiana couldn’t find an empty bench amid the long paths, the Greek statues, the towering elms, and the intertwined lovers, like tangled rose branches all. As they walked, her head was lowered. They finally found a spot near the statue of Saturn. It was not the ideal place for them to sit, Tatiana thought, since Saturn’s mouth was wide open and he was stuffing a child into it with derelict zeal. Alexander had brought a little vodka and some bologna ham and some white bread. He had also brought a jar of black caviar and a bar of chocolate. Tatiana was quite hungry. Alexander told her to have all the caviar. She protested at first, but not vigorously. After she had eaten more than half, scooping the caviar out with the small spoon he had brought, she handed him the rest. “Please,” she said, “finish it. I insist.” She had a gulp of vodka straight from the bottle and shuddered involuntarily; she hated vodka but didn’t want him to know what a baby she was. Alexander laughed at her shuddering, taking the bottle from her and having a swig. “Listen, you don’t have to drink it. I brought it to celebrate your birthday. Forgot the glasses, though.” He was spread out all over the bench and sitting conspicuously close. If she breathed, a part of her would touch a part of him. Tatiana was too overwhelmed to speak, as her intense feelings dropped into the brightly lit well inside her. “Tania?” Alexander asked gently. “Tania, is the food all right?” “Yes, fine.” After a small throat clearing, she said, “I mean, it’s very nice, thank you.
Paullina Simons (The Bronze Horseman (The Bronze Horseman, #1))
Let her have this moment. She needs to feel loved. Love can be a powerful remedy.” Mason’s fingers intertwined with mine. “Love can destroy and love can heal. It’s what you decide to do with it that determines the path.
Mary Ting (From Deities (Descendant Prophecies, #2))
everything is intertwined in a continuous movement, arising in certain forms that we call bodies or thoughts or feelings, and then dissolving or changing into new forms.
Jack Kornfield (A Path with Heart: A Guide Through the Perils and Promises of Spiritual Life)
sharing the sight of a shooting star means that your paths are destined to intertwine.
Jeffrey L. Kohanek (The Arcane Ward (Wardens of Issalia #2))
Time advanced again—Time machine’s pace became unusually up normal,the reality of my life stood in front of me when the journey continued mountain over mountains.We passed over more than a million rivers and streams of good and bad water as my insight intertwined a society. In the narrow paths of my life I felled,I bled with my solitary heart, as I knew I became a burden for a wild society. The crime I did was I created Literature with my spiral imagination.
Nithin Purple (The Bell Ringing Woman: A Blue Bell of Inspiration)
ECHOES OF LOVE: A DANCE BENEATH THE ARCHWAYS Beneath the archways, where shadows play, As the world gives way, begin the odyssey. Uncertainty weaves into the grand scheme of life, A mystical altar, where destinies are intertwined. I walk the path, seeking the balm of solace, Enduring burden, sweet hymn of love. With hopes gone, a peace is about to descend, Still the echoes remain, they dissolve in silence. The flawed script in the story I wrote, Whispers of well-being, truths worth absorbing. "I'm fine," I say, a deceptive glare, Exposing the lies, an invisible love. A waltz with shadows on your street, Cynic's steps, very judicious dance. Terrible notions, a conspiracy unfolds, Regret is echoing at the threshold of love. Rumors of happiness, far-fetched, As I stumble in the field of love. In excess, I stumble and strain, Hope of solace, of regaining love. Did I stumble in that fleeting call? Huge weakening of pride, slow decline of strength. A gift given, deemed inadequate, In closeness, bonds become inadequate. A crazy search for a cure for love, Wandering aimlessly, purpose uncertain. Your realm echoes with such blasphemous footsteps, In the despair of the night, capricious dreams. Happiness, heard a rumor softly, As I wrestle with love like a flightless bird. Juggling too much reduces the weight of love, In the noise of love, a desperate clown. The desire to turn back, the love to amend, Unraveling habits, unraveling at every turn. A desperate attempt, from the quagmire of love, Hope you find love worth savoring. GUIDE ME, LET SALVATION BEGIN, A CHANCE TO IMPROVE, A REVENGE FOR LOVE. TO IMPROVE, HABITS HAVE TO BE BROKEN, A SELF-CALCULATING, STRIVING SOUL. THOUGHTS ENTANGLED IN THE HOPEFUL VISION OF LOVE, A CHANCE TO IMPROVE, A DECISION OF LOVE. WITNESS THE TRANSFORMATION, LET IT HAPPEN, INSPIRE IT, IN THE DANCE OF LOVE'S LIBERATION. LET ME ENTER AGAIN, A DOOR A LITTLE AJAR, A LOVE REBUILT, A HEALING STAR. WATCH AS LOVE APPEARS, WATCH, IN THE RELAXATION OF LOVE, A STORY RETOLD. I KEEP DREAMING, MAYBE, JUST MAYBE, LOVE'S EMBRACE, WAVING DESTINY. WITH EVERY STEP FORWARD, LOVE IS BECOMING FREE, SELF-MADE AGREEMENT, THE DEGREE OF LOVE.
Manmohan Mishra
In the aftermath of heartbreak, Jen seeks solace in the embrace of a luxury yoga retreat in Deia, hoping to find renewal amidst sun-kissed landscapes. Little does she anticipate that beyond the calming poses, a week filled with laughter, tears, and unexpected connections awaits her. Simultaneously, Ben, navigating the shadows of grief after losing his wife, embarks on a quest for renewal in the same retreat. As yoga intertwines their paths, Unforeseen twists weave their stories together, as both Jen and Ben discover that amidst the sunlit landscapes and healing practices, a shared journey of joy, love, and serendipity unfolds. In a place where souls find solace, the echoes of coincidences shape destinies when least expected. Embark on a scintillating journey to the enchanting haven of Deia, where a steamy romance blossoms and new friends made...
Luna Lovell (7 Days in Deià: Coincidences happen when you least expect them)
The journey of grief is a winding path devoid of a destination. It’s a journey filled with ups and downs, where healing and acceptance intertwine and where the memories of our loved ones continue to live on, inspiring us to cherish the love we shared and find gratitude for the legacy they left behind.
Kelly Daugherty