New memory like Glory tidings

A garden is a flower memory. It doesn't seem to matter what the circumstances were, The whiteness of a rose still blends with green. I identified with a white rose because I'm white. But there are plenty of roses that grow from the ground. Purple, red, and perhaps even some shades of blue. But what I remember is my desire to grow a garden. Like right now I feel an urge to buy another rose for my garden. There seems to be too large a gap between rose bushes and I'm doing my best to plant several rose bushes that can one day grow into one big rose bush. I like a memory of writing. When I was in a poetry class at JSU, or Jackson State University for those who don't know my history, where a pen ink lines a page says something. The long pages and sentences that stretch out into my blog of personal whiteness like a blank slate is how free I always am. As I write, I notice there are three sentences that came from one experience. But interestingly, one sentence in the last went further than the others. But this one didn't have too. Because I have to rest sometimes. There's nothing left to worry about. Either you're a person or just a physics joke. That's a choice only you can make hun. Some seem to have made their careers just making jokes of human beings like physics, and even though it made a point, it was a bit cowardly. People too afraid and incompetent to face normal human situations just wanted to be loved and looked for an excuse to not feel left out. I don't want to be like that and I'm not like that thank God. It should be clear btw that not every difficult topic doesn't require a difficult conversation. There are several points along the way. A simple verse seems to be like a last word and yet I kept writing anyway. A reminder that all winning ties tend to fade as a new experience of good tidings is craved.