such a

I scrubbed the clotted chocolate icing off the fork – such a feeling of guilt to it

I washed the stubborn paint off my brushes – such an absoluteness to it

I rubbed the anti-aging cream onto my face – such an apprehension to it

I erased the number off my phone such a sadness to it.

I imagine you would know!

Sometimes I’d want to call and ask you “who am I?”
I imagine you’d know

The years have reshaped me, remolded me, the way waves reshape pebbles on the shore

I want to see myself again, meet myself again, acquaint with myself again, 

learn the simple things about me; where I’ve from? where I hope to go? The sound of my voice, the

familiar tilt of my head, the simple wisdom of my body. 

My dreams; 

What are they?

What were they?

Where they'd gone?

A Million Meetings

I’ve met you before in reoccurring peaceful dreams of powder blue and violet.

I’ve met you before, our meetings as certain, as fickle as the seasons,

when you rained down on me, sure and endlessly sorrowful.

I’ve met you, in the myriad exact mirrors I passed unexpectedly and unaware.

I’ve met you, before, I know it;

You took my seat on the train just as I descended

You turned the corner of the street while I crossed hurriedly

I was at the dinner party you politely declined

I picked up and bought the book you carefully considered

We’ve met before, a million meetings, though I don’t know your name.

I’ve met you before, the gentle harmonized sigh, the gaze towards the wise full moon synchronized with a wish to meet someday soon.

Consciousness and trees

The most ridiculous thing a person might attempt to do is change another person’s opinion or try to convince them of his or her own personal perspective. It’s such  great relief when one gives in to the idea that no one truly understands anyone and that we are all singular and separate individuals constantly creating and changing our own realities. Everything we hear is but an opinion, everything we see is but a perspective; there is no black nor white there is only grey, nothing is ever truly decided. To appreciate other beings as one does trees, they have their own nature, awareness, existence and language, they are beautiful but I shall never see the universe through the consciousness of a tree, nor will the tree ever see the universe through my personal consciousness.

Your bright and dim stars

Meeting a person for the first time, discovering them, also means that you are discovering something you did not know about yourself, meeting a new and strange part of yourself you never knew existed. As people, we act as mirrors for one another, we reflect to each other our dark and bright parts and we love those who reflect back to us our brightest and most attractive characteristics and detest the ones who reflect our flaws; showing us where we really need to change and grow. That is why some people find it emotionally challenging to meet new people, their only friends are those made when they were younger, they struggle with relationships and social events because in such settings of having to meet someone new, or being surrounded by a group of people they are not acquainted with, they are in fact confronted with their own disadvantages, something they would rather not see. It takes courage to make new friends and learn about your own sparkling and dim stars.

If only you looked again

If only you had looked again, if only you looked more closely, you would have found inside me a garden carpeted with budding flowers, saplings and streams. There was a time when my dreams had wings, it breaks my heart that not much is left of that once luscious garden, it saddens me that my dreams are now either crippled or crawling, I wake up some nights feverish, drenched in sweat and crying “I want you to change the past”. I remember your condescending belittling laughter, I wonder why the past had not lived in you as it did in me.

The inspiring cage

Isn’t joy the shadow of sorrow? Isn’t sorrow the shadow of joy? In an experiment conducted in a zoo sometime in the late fifties an ape was taught how to draw and was given some markers to do so, the first thing he drew were the bars of his cage. 

We primates are obsessed with our cages, although the bars which confine us may vary; for some the cage may be money, for others success, love, hate, sex, illness, religion, values and believes, depression, racism or sexism, war, politics, even the pursuit of freedom can become a cage. Despite their origin, despite what shape or size our cages take they inspire us to create; the very stifling limit of our existence is what truly makes us sing, paint, write eternal stories and compose unforgettable music.