The flowers dry under the sun leaving behind their past and future. Water, the past, and time all stamped permanently in their veins. Nothing can take their history away. Not the sun or rain or destruction of their petals.
The flowers may be gone but will never be forgotten by the world. Instead, they won’t be known as dead but be remembered for time for what they gave to the world when they were blooming.
Wind
The wind she whispers in the night. She calls for me to answer and follow her voice. But the call remains unanswered as she continually howls and shakes the windowpanes. Because to follow the voice, one must be ready to leave the shelter and follow the path of destiny. And the shelter that provides warmth and comfort is difficult to leave, especially when one isn’t ready. But the wind doesn’t discriminate when she calls. It doesn’t stop. Because once the voice is heard, it can never be undone.
So, until one is ready to leave and explore the unknown world, the wind remains a reminder that there’s more out in the world than this little old home. But until then, I suppose I’ll listen to her howl and scratch at my insides. When it’s time, I’ll be ready.
Time
There’s the past
and the present
and nothing short but the future.
But which one is most important?
Is it the past that defines us,
or the present where our story projects
or the future, the culmination of all our choices?
My answer is this; it’s all of them
Learn from your past,
live in your present,
and grow and be better for the future.
The past is you.
The present is now.
And the future is us.
Silence
The silence was once a terrifying thing, for it brought a certain uneasy stillness. One that could not mask the things one wishes to hideaway. To stop and listen to nothing, slow down and see the things around, it was once a nightmare. The silence only highlighted the monsters underneath the bed that I thought would one-day disappear on their own. The fear became so great that I refused to acknowledge it for years, and I filled my life with chaos and negativity to avoid it at all costs. I knew I couldn’t listen to the voice inside if I surrounded myself with so much noise. Because in the silence, all I have is myself. I used to allow everyone around me to tell me who I was and what I wanted. They inadvertently told me what to wear, how to behave, what I should eat. And I thought it was easier to live that way, to be whatever everyone wanted me to be. It took years of frustration struggling with my inner silence and the world that I realized I am nothing without my voice. And I would rather live in my silence and know who I am than be consumed by the noise.
October
The October winds
Oh, how you call to me.
The fall comes to mind
The birds and the leaves swirl
All of the stars have aligned.
The full moon and spooky moments
All the figures are outlined
Here you are, my October.
The World
On my own,
I begin anew.
With my thoughts and feelings
I’ve got my suitcase too.
For now, I must wander,
Into the land down yonder
And discover the world.
I’ve been longing to see,
I hope one day this world,
Will see little old me.
Magic Trees
The trees cast shadows into the night,
Stay until morning light,
The sun will rise
And all will know
For all the trees begin to glow.
These magic trees,
Give a new sense of life.
To those waiting for their chance
But tell me will the trees,
Give me a glance into the person I can be?
Or am I destined only to see the simple, yet ordinary, tree?
A Moment
There are those moments where I lay in silence, waiting for the world to stop. I sit and wait for that moment of quiet, but it never comes. People never stop moving; they never stop going. I often feel like I’m watching them while standing in the street, itching to be heard. To be seen.
I watch as the people zoom past, scrambling to reach their new destination. All while I feel confused and disoriented. Everyone always appears to know where they’re going and how they will get there. I have never reached that postmark, and maybe neither have they. It merely appears as if they know where they are going.
I suppose it’s better that I don’t pretend, so I don’t become lost in the bustle. I guess waiting for that magic moment where everything was clear, was the child in me. Because life doesn’t arise from a collective whole but that of moments put together.
This world may knock me down. This world may be tough at times, and things may never become what I expect them to be. But to stop trying means to falter and end. Today I am a sitter, watcher, listener of the world, and all the people.
There are those moments where I sit silently and wonder what it is to be. The answer may never be clear, but I have this moment, and that’s all I need.
These Pictures
The pictures that hang on these walls stand frozen in time. Ghosts haunt these frames like that of a thousand confederate soldiers lined for battle. The stories that lie beneath each image is too hard to recall. Because how could a person ever discern someone’s character by just a little picture on the wall?
The pictures remain silent; no person speaks inside them. Yes, it’s impossible, I know, because no photograph can speak of a figure’s past or future. Pictures hung on the wall only capture a moment in time that once was fleeting. A moment that’ll once was stolen and never returned.
The ghosts on the wall remain a mystery to us all, for those people are strangers that could have been kings or queens. But alas forever remain the figures that swirl and dance around in my head because I don’t know them or the things they did in this world. They could have been monsters or saints; I’ll never know because all that remains is a sliver of time, a moment that has come and gone.
And one day, my picture will be unrecognizable to someone on the outside. But until that day, I suppose I’ll continue to fantasize about the pictures that hang on the wall.
You and Me
The doves, and misty sunrise
will never bring me happiness
as much as someone like you.
No pair of mesmerizing eyes
or set of sunset skies
will ever be as beautiful
as someone like you.
No one from here to the sea,
will ever mean more to me
then someone like you.
For the person like you
saved my life many years ago
from the highest swells and darkness.
And through the light of the clouds.
I can see clearly.
And now I know it was
always destined to be
You and Me
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