Acceptance is bliss, nothing short of that word.
It is derived from kindness and maturity.
Reeking of depth and longing for purpose.
One accepts his inevitable faith.
Acceptance is bliss, nothing short of that word.
It thrives in an environment of peace, albeit difficult in every manner.
Reeking, the word of choice – nowhere near the descriptive capabilities as
One accepts his inevitable end.
Acceptance is bliss, nothing short of that word.
It seeks a listener whose intention is pure and just,
Reeking of everything but desire.
One accepts his inevitable misery.
Acceptance is bliss, nothing short of that word.
It is commonplace for the human to place their beliefs
In that basket of uncertainty,
While, before their very eyes,
Reeking, jutting out of control,
It comes before them, like an aura of a silver lining.
One accepts his inevitable growth.
idiot's story 