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“The Beauty Of Every Thought”
(Written By: Alana Cheng)

The beauty of the afternoon of the soil to the soul of ground, the heartbeats of sound that gravitates towards the beauty of every thought, the moments of a test so cruel to the window of my heartbreak, the kind that I wish to long forget into a time of silence, with no silence in mind at all, or nothing at all to begin with, as the beauty of every beating of noise through the door behind the hours of a breaking glass to the head, the memories of visions of a good thing would remain unbroken, never shattered to begin with, plagued by the evening moodiness, of the beauty of a thousand pleasures, screaming out for air, reaching for a romantic hand to hold, smiles of graces of the most undefined places, with no explicit intention of the kind that I’d pursue, of the good and the bad, to the love and the rad, but the goal of dying, maybe just a tad, to make any sense at all, I really don’t mind, to let it all blossom, to let it all flower by, from coast to coast, to what matters most, these are the times to take the time to go on and wake up, open your eyes, and breathe in the days, with the beauty of every thought, rushing on by, like a traffic jam to the sane of the insane, the running of the wild to the seas, something of the tease, to bring forth the preview of a good moment, pink roses, the dash of glitter to the class of wonderful teachings for the lessons to the head, before going to bed, to close your eyes and to start the day all over again, by the beauty of every thought, the encountering of running up and down the halls, the spark of all the kisses to the sky, well wishes to the burning of the fabulous bushes, of the beauty of every amazement of each count of encountering glory to the brave glow of no one to know, the secret in a diary, with eyes that are good and red as well as fiery, the beauty of every thought, the beauty of every dream come true, the wonders of finding out whatever it is that exists in you, the beauty of every living thing, of the scarce to the most visible of the unbelievable sorts, with the beauty of every moment, and of every knot, there is life in the beauty of every thought.