Originally posted on 7-12-11.
I searched the desert sands
just to later realize that I was in the
and the pool of water that I sought so
desperately was just within reach,
only I was too parched to
and by that point, too weak to
I lay there on my back,
atop a mossy patch of green, tangled
insects trekked over me as if I were
an abandoned log-
they went about their way,
in search of their own sparkling oases.
The leaves around me rustled with
and the brush was alive with movement.
I lay motionless, staring at the soaring
deep and blue and rich
with a tint of yellow orange sun,
absorbing the sounds of my temporary
I heard feet brush past me-
I’d closed my eyes to rest, you see, and
I followed the hurried sound with my ears
and opened them slowly to see myself
walking toward the pool,
which was only a few paces away,
right in front of me…
the entire time.
I wearily watched this version
stride to the pool and take a drink;
how effortless it truly was, and
then I questioned how difficult I’d made it
out to be, sipping from that pool.
I turned back to the sky
and cursed this alternate me,
enraged at the thought of what could
but I was only cursing myself…
I realized then that I wandered the desert
because I never thought that I was
worthy of a drink*
Originally posted on 3-21-11, this piece is a simple reminder that, amid the challenges and stressors of life, anything remains possible to those whose spirits remain strong and steady. Our outlook and perceptions of life affect our outcomes…stay positive, stay determined, and stay focused, and everything will be within reach. And above all, let’s strive to develop an awareness of ourselves; that journey will always bear fruit! Enjoy…and don’t forget to live today.
I could have climbed the highest
trudged up frozen mountains, relying
on hardened grit and steely determination.
I could have sailed the high seas,
adrift on those deep waters,
depending on courage and endurance.
We tend to say we ‘could have’, as if
we are already dead,
or as if we have no choice.
We tend to reference our dreams as random
images that only occur when our
eyes are closed, and
we tend to say no before we’ve even
Our ship sinks before it ever tastes
the thrill of the wind, and before it
has ever tasted the salt of the sea.
I say that I could have explored the depths
of dense jungles and remote lands,
which is true,
but I have explored the depths of my
I’ve trekked the high hills and low valleys
of my mind,
and swam with the wayward memories within
And what a journey that has been.
We could spend a lifetime staring
out of the window-
pondering how our lives could be,
or could have been,
wishing a life out of thin air,
and being disappointed when
our stunted efforts lead to mist and dust, but
most never strap on the boots and
ascend those frozen rocks.
Most never raise their sails high into
the unknown wind-
most never step foot into the thick tangle
of lost jungles,
and most fail to discover the uncharted
territory that lies just beneath our skin.
And our desires slowly slip away beneath
the regions that we’re unwilling to
those darkened corners that we’re afraid to
and we wonder.
having never known the true warmth of
I could have climbed the highest peaks,
but I know that I still can.
Until then, I find satisfaction knowing
that I’ve mastered the rapids of my own heart,
crossed the glades of my own soul,
and swam with the thoughts that linger
in my mind*
Originally posted on 10-8-12, this poem is a little reminder that there is hope at the end of every dark tunnel, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem. The key is to keep moving forward; pushing, clawing, grinding…whatever it takes, until your eyes can see clearly once more. Always reach out to those going through troubles; lend a helping hand, and make a point to uplift rather than put down. Make an effort to find your peace…and help others discover theirs. And remember to never fear the journey.
Twenty years imbalanced.
Twenty years spent roaming the stillness and
bedding down in a locked room.
Twenty years imbalanced-
a steaming brew boiled within those walls,
bubbling over and staining the pot with its
Bubbles rose to the surface and exploded
spirits rose and fell like ocean tides,
and emotions rode those waves like daring
surfers in search of that unattainable thrill.
Thoughts and hopes and dreams appeared and
dissipated like gobs of rain under a hot sun-
twenty years imbalanced-
parched and afloat, drifting along choppy seas,
surrounded by irony, and unable to take a sip-
the know how just wasn’t yet there,
so he treated himself like a book,
and became an encyclopedia-
and yet dusty and unread,
his pages stained with longing and mystery.
He learned to read himself, word for word,
until a detailed silhouette materialized.
A volume was left open on a table one
close to an open window-
a ripe plum purple morning, threaded
with the orange mists of dawn, and streaked
with whispering winds-
winds that meandered through the window and stirred
the sediments of dust and waste…
an eager gust crept along the table and
managed to turn a page…
Twenty years imbalanced.
Twenty years unsteady, unguided, unheard-
twenty years locked behind silent, mirrored walls,
examining and learning the words of himself-
the opening of that window flipped a page,
just a random page,
with a new one resting calmly beside it-
a new chapter-
waiting eagerly under
the brilliance of the rising sun*