There is a time and a place for everything.

A poem illustrating oneself on the path to growing older.

There is a problem when you start feeling like things have feelings. Intellectually you know they don’t have feelings, but the thought of them sitting lonely and abandoned in some dump or recycling station breaks your heart. Thrift shops feel like a field of lost dreams. However, clutter can take over your life and prohibit your dreams. (PS The images are not from my own cluttered place or of me.)

Questions I’m sure that have crossed everyone’s mind at some point in their life.

Love comes in my different forms and ways. Different types of intensity, depending on who you are loving.

Do you ever feel like your things are disappearing? That whenever you turn your head something has been stolen. Here is a poem about those things, those stolen things.

Application for our life, in the gifts the wise men brought to Jesus.

Sorry if this one doesn’t make much sense but I’m talking about people who own things that they hold to the highest regard. There is no need of this and that is where I am getting at with this.

The feline approach in taking possession of that, which they have disdainfully decided, should belong to them.

There are two sides to everything, one example being the bees that give us honey and can sting us at the same time. Analogically, money and possessions can do the same.