💭Reflection

Note to self

Nanda Regine

Illusion is found in the most obvious of placesIt's how our mind is sketched to the concrete conclusionThat its chaos is darkGloomy and freakishly lonelyA world that is dreaded to be exploredIn the wake of nightAlthough it is the only destination available for travelTo reach the waiting hand of slumber and dreamsDear Self, the artistry of the stream lines of thoughtsAre scattered like a museum so bigCosmos themselves scorn in envyThe vast beauty of memories paint our experiencesIn colourful attire, some brighter than othersIn show-off allure and vibrancy in abundanceYou see... those ones hold the pedestal of desireWe've dragged those with depths of deep colourInked them with rudimentary titles andPerspectives that stay afloat on the surfaceDear Self, the conclusion should beThat your mind is a Runway of fierce artTailor made for the figure of your characterThat struts in confidence and powerSo, fellow mateThe journey to the waiting hand of slumber and dreamsHas always been first class certifiedWhen you admire your art through the eye of adorationFor how far you've come

— Nanda Regine

From “Inside Her Roses”