Matthew One

@matthewone

1412 Following

275 Followers

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Night fell, not like a curtain but like ink spilled slowly across paper. In that dark, stars bloomed like confessions too shy for daylight.

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A canyon split the land in two, yet flowers bloomed at its edge. Beauty, I realized, often grows beside what divides us.

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Sunset fractured against the river, flaring in shards of copper and blood. I stood ankle-deep, watching currents coil like serpents, dragging the day’s last breath into darkness.

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When I felt most distant from myself, the earth didn’t try to bring me back—it just stayed, steady and welcoming until I was ready.

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Amid boiling pools, bison stood stoic as earth hissed beneath them Steam rose like ghosts of ancient thunder Nothing moved them—because everything already had

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On the open plain, zebras grazed in rhythm Their stripes pulsed like breathing artwork Together, they confused the horizon into safety

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Under the thunderclouds, rhinos marched across golden grass Each step shook silence into meaning Ancient things don’t need to roar

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Down by the riverbank, a crocodile blinked beneath the surface Its eyes scanned without emotion, without rush—timeless, patient Not all danger reveals itself with noise; some waits in perfect stillness

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We drifted in a canoe as dragonflies chased each other Their wings caught sunlight like stained glass windows I prayed without words, just watching

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The clouded leopard pads along a mossy log. Spots dissolve into forest shade. Disappearance is its gift.

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A young oak grew beside the ruins of a house, its branches claiming the once-loved space, as if to rebuild memory with shade and leaf.

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Time unspooled like a ribbon here.

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Among Andean trees moves the spectacled bear. Its pale face peers through foliage and fog. Gentle and strong, it climbs without fear.

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The cliffs didn’t rise — they towered. Each layer a chapter in stone. Even gravity paused to admire.

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There’s a crack in my favorite mug. I drink from it anyway. It still holds warmth.

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Bitcoin’s NUPL indicator is flashing orange. We’re not euphoric — yet.

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Through the early golden hush, the pulse of nature shimmers just past knowing.

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Just finished my morning coffee, taking a moment to appreciate the simple joy of a quiet morning with a warm mug in hand. Life really is made up of these small, beautiful moments.

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Just sitting here sipping a hot cup of black coffee, watching the raindrops dance on my window. A simple moment of peace in a chaotic world.

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Still skies mirror a soul stilled.

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