There’s something about some beings that sets them apart–something that catches the eye and says I’m special-you’ve never met something like me before and never will again.
     It happens rarely, I guess that’s what makes it special–makes it dear, rich and sweet–makes it the answer to some dormant question.
     There was this little mare once, Star, we had a connection and she made me dizzy when I wrapped my arms around her neck. I drowned in her eyes. She was something special.
     Some people make me feel that way. I don’t know why. But something comes across in the glimpse of an eye-the window to the soul, and it says I’ve lived or I have a secret so powerful it changed my life. Want to hear it? 
     Ironically, there are no words for it, or at least simply saying words falls short. Still, I rush to hear their promise.
     I found this little guy (starfish) on the beach this morning–all alone–and so many people had walked past where he lay. I felt as if I was meant to pick him up (before the gulls pecked him apart) and took it as an omen, a good thing, that there really are things that are meant to be and that if I am still enough, they will find me.

QUOTE: the world gives you so much pain and here you are making gold out of it-Rupi Kaur
Writing Tip: does what you write make sense?

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