Ink Stained Soul…

We forget. When we are busy building, dreaming, walking through life so fiercely, the fragility lying underneath the surface. Lying in bed, stripped down in illness, there it sits. Like the sweat of your brow as fever breaks or the weaknesses in your body as nothing else can stay inside you. You can be feeling as if nothing can hold you back. In mere days, you are reminded that everything is a gift. And so, when we forget, the hands of fate show us to treasure it always.