Smiles on faces that know the abundance of perfect moments.

Smiles on faces that know the abundance of perfect moments.



The beauty lost between the first and second hand,
The moment - young we stood, ageless in our minds,
The moment past; and wiser we shall live.

I find the pleasure of truth delicate,
The truth of pleasure intricate,
And the thickness of my thoughts paint shadows on empty walls.
comfort and the means to what end?

There are moments when my doubt would overtake the joys of poverty. The fleeting lust of safety and safe words.
Forgotten faces toiling for the sake of fading vice.
I have looked at the life. I have weighed the price.
Neither worth my pursuit. Yours?

Who owns my morning, my sunset, my afternoon?
Am I the master of many things; or the slave to one-thousand shiny reflections?
When I wake, do I have a choice? Do I dread my tomorrow?
When I sleep, am I content with all that is?
And if nothing is my everything; do I dream in peace?
Beautiful choice. Beautiful moment owned.


Only here in the labyrinth of enternal luxury, have I forgotten the sensual ache of substance and the magnificent taste of worth.
Give me back my stolen days!
Give me back sanity!
$4495.00 - is the tag on the cashmere jacket. The price to be someone. Paid by those who are nothing without it.
It will fade like me, it will fade like all else in this fading place - and not be missed.
.
The sweat of palm trees drips into my imagination and I climb off the wheel.
Turn it yourself. Or better: don't - you do have that choice.
Suddenly, I know the abundance of perfect moments.
Count them. They are passing.
Ce Aujourd'hui.


(Andrew Tipton)