Glass of Love

Handle me gently,

Hold me with love,

Clear my crystal thoughts,

Reflect all you are

Through this glass

Called love.

See through my pain,

See all the love stored inside

This fragile love,

See that there is Strength.

Don’t break these fragile

Emotions,

Make them endurable and

Brilliant with hope.

Help glass endure the fire;

Mold love to its shape.

Build a heart full of love,

Where the heat of passion

Bonds our Being.

--Heat my heart like love heats glass to its full creation; endure, don’t shake--

How to Love a Butterfly

I see you near me;
I really wish to
connect to you,
Butterfly.

You fly into my life,
Mysterious Monarch,
you mesmerize my eyes.


Your beauty fills me
with Happiness,
but I can't hold
Happiness in my hands.

I can't keep you!

How then, do I love you
Butterfly,
when I know you
will leave?

Enchanted but fearful
I approach and you
fly away!

--to love a Butterfly
means to be fearless,
fearless of loss...--

A World of Words

Words have a magic of their own, meaning. Watching the cool, blue-gray light-bulb on the nocturnal sky I say the word “moon” and a spell on it is made. Words are the spells we humans give to our surroundings. We try and explain them, making them reasonable and familiar to us; we try and connect to them but in this we confine these objects of description.

[Words have the power of movement, of taking us to other worlds, to other’s minds.]

You say “I dreamed of an infinite hallway of rooms, I standing in the corridor, all the doors partially opened but not fully to see what is inside…”

I say “That is the world of words, eternal, infinite, vast combinations, so many hidden meanings, many rooms of thoughts for interpretation, and the shadow of imagination following your mind to see what is inside them and inside of you.”

You tell me “I fear what is inside. Words of pain, hatred, hypocrisy, lies, it would take me an eternity to find the room where I feel comforted and happiest in, where I can feel like myself. I am too tired of searching, all I find is empty rooms and empty words. I rather not speak of this again. I am confined! I rather be silent for eternity.

[Will words always depend on a voice, someone to speak them? A mind to think of them? Will words ever be free?]

I tell you, “Wait, words have a magic of their own, we humans are the ones who are using them wrongly now. Give back words their true purpose, for true free expression. Open all those doors with your voice. If you are too tired of searching, then why didn’t you speak and defend yourself? This world of Words has infinite possibilities, many pathways to go, words can transform this dream of the eternal corridor of rooms you are trapped in into the place where you want to be in. Fisher, let all those words that you caught while fishing spill out of the river of your mind. Let all those fears be washed away, cleansed with new thoughts, new ideas. Don’t you see, let them flow out of you and run freely like a powerful cascade of thoughts and destroy all the walls that you have constructed in your own mind. Let us, others be the fishers for once, let us catch those words that you desire to free yourself from. Let us catch those words we desire to keep and let go of those we want to forget and leave.”

You exclaim, “Words are deceived by the people who are using them, saying them in hypocrisy, without meaning, for their own gain, without care, without feelings. Words are losing that magic you talk about today; they are tired, meaningless, and this is why I still want to be silent.”

I confess, “I am all those words you are rejecting. Give me back the magic of my existence, my purpose with your Voice. Do not ever confine words, me, into the prison of silence and thoughts. Don’t lock that treasure chest of ideas gained throughout the many years, only because you have suffered from words. Give the ideas light to see, let them blossom out of your mind and to the rest of the world. You, the fisher, are the World, you make it! Give all those brilliant ideas the chance to become Words. Please, liberate me, the words in your mind, and I will liberate you from pain, from that infinite hallway of rooms if you only speak! Speak for both of us!! We both need of each other to live and express ourselves, to be free.”

The Fisher of Words decides to speak and let all the world of words in his mind free saying, “I am free to express myself in this world of words, in this infinite space, in this infinite place. The moon, the sun, the stars, water, earth and all those people that care for me or need of my words and voice, for all of them I will speak and break this prison of silence, this prison of rooms, these thoughts of my mind. I need to tell them ‘I love this world despite the pain, for you I live you are the magic that gives meaning to these words I am speaking.’ I need to tell them that there is still hope for this tired world of words, and I have the answer: Speak! Say what you feel, create the music of feelings with your words, say what you feel without regrets or remorse. This is the true freedom for both us, the world and words.”

-And this is why I write, for the Fisher of Words, the World of Words inside of me, and even if I suffer for speaking out the truth, all the pain will be released and my words and I will be free.

[Words if kept hidden, silent, and running in your mind become tormenting thoughts, nightmares in your mind, that corridor of rooms, of fears, of worries, which leads to destruction of the world inside of you.]
-I am lost in this World of Words, find me, I am there.

Clouds of Thoughts

I could just sit and lay on the grass and watch the clouds pass by, let life progress and I lose myself in the sky and with them.

I could dream without closing my eyes.

I could finally find a resting place, and relax all my thoughts and let the clouds take thoughts with them.

I could just finally find resignation to the truth that just like the clouds, people go and people come; I could learn to let go and not attach myself because easily they come, go, and disappear out of my sight, out of my life.

I could value the blueness of the sky, its absoluteness amidst the clouds, as if water for the ships of clouds to travel upon.

I could finally let go of all my worries and doubts, lose all the old hopes and make more realistic flexible hopes for the future.

I can finally give tears back to the sky, their birthplace with my own cloudy eyes that have seen dreadful sights, shedding these tears and letting evaporation take them to the clouds of my thoughts.

Tears add clarity and I will finally see a place without hatred a place without falseness, I will finally see reality at its full splendor, just by sitting and looking up at the clouds in the sky.

I will no longer dream of getting up there, for the dream is born down here, I will learn to value this distance as much as the closeness I use to worship; distance adds appreciation to the observer of life; the dream is far more a beautiful sight from below and from away than from above and close.

You need not to be close to love fully, to appreciate truly.

To look up is always far sweeter than to look down, up there in the sky, is all the support I need, a comfort to my soul.

Tell me what is more of contemplation, looking from above down below, or looking from below towards the above?

Below is a place for me, and I do not reject or forsaken it. No, the beauty of life is contemplation and that can only be done when you are down here, from below.

Just sitting like this, letting life pass by, letting thoughts, tears, clouds come and go, disappear in the horizon of my mind, letting the sun shine comfort and healing me with its magical power of warmth, all this will make me grow from down here, from below.

Like the chlorophyll to a plant, the sun to my blood heats up all my desires to live.

Watching those white fluffy clouds amidst the blue sky, makes my heart rise from below and be taken with them.

I can now dream without closing my eyes, I could dream without hoping in the achievement of them; I am achieving them just now, sitting on the grassy ground letting the clouds pass by, losing myself in the sky.

This is the dream I was hoping for, peace.

I could love without disappointment or seeking love in return,

I could finally see with clarity even with clouds on the horizon,

I could have strength and do more with my inaction just by sitting down and relaxing.

I could travel without my legs moving me and just letting the clouds and the wind be the wings that help me rise from this fall; I could be taken from this world without leaving the ground.

I can reach the sky without lifting a finger.

I can finally learn to let go of worries, of stress, of regrets I could have the will to live without putting much effort, by just flowing with the river of life and letting clouds, the wind, and water take me where they please, amidst the blue sky of this world that is open to the endless possibilities.

It is time to stand up from this resting place, I the observer of dreams, clouds, life, thoughts, hopes, and finally flow in the waters of life and continue with it, just as the clouds, just as the wind taking them now it is taking me to other places, to daily tasks and duties requiring active effort and energies.
I will not forget though, that rest and inaction often does more than all the activity you may perform in this world. I will come back and just lay on this earth, on the grass, and lose myself again in the blue sky and let my dreams and thoughts be taken by the clouds; contemplation from below instead from the above. In losing myself in nature, in the sky I find myself, I learn peace for which to hold on to in stressful times, peace that helps me endure the hard winds of life, peace that I can share with others with smiles and laughter instead of screams and anger. I find in nature true hope and not hope built from artificial human materials said to be enduring but being more painful because of this infallible endurance, full of resistance, full of struggle. Hope should be built of earthly matter, hope that is not aiming for endurance, but for flexibility, realistic and built upon unleveled grounds, savoring and knowing that collapse as much as strength, can be far more rewarding to the spirit that can be molded from the knowledge gained from these painful but meaningful experiences that can build a more complete self.

Thoughts on Revolution

Revolution is not neccesarily change; it is doing what others do not, it is defying other's imposed doctrines on yourself by simply being that, yourself.

(To the) Stranger

I always see you around, like a shadow. I wish I could leave the world of shadows I am of you, and you of me. I wish I could know your name. I wish I could be transported into your life; be a part of your life just by telling you my name.


A memory is created. How funny it is that language, names we give them meaning and connect them to something, to someone. I wish with me giving you my name at least you have a memory of me and connect it everytime I see you, and you me.

Sadly though...the mind is reconstructive and just as the sand and the tide, words and names are erased from the memory of the mind.

I just wish that I cannot depend so much on the name, or even my face, or even the body I occupy in which you see me complete. I really hope that what is transported into you is my feelings, my views, and my ideas.

I aspire too much for being a human being. Memories get lost and often erased from the mind with the passage of time, and buried with the creation of new memories, of new people in your life.

Stranger, I will try to leave this word behind, so distant, so unfamiliar, so disconnected from me.

I will make the strange familiar with speaking to you. I hope though that more than language connecting us, (your name) it is your presence in my life and my presence in yours; presence itself makes us close, graspable meaningful, real.

A flashing fear, comes…how can mere presence connect us, when we are like the stars in the universe, so vast and surrounded by many that it makes it difficult if not impossible to focus on one alone. Yes, the brighter outshine the rest but, what about those that their time has not come to shine yet…but about them that lose their chance because of time itself being a barrier which causes them to not be ready to shine when a worthwhile viewer actually approaches to appreciate them?

How strange it is all memories and we humans; we all yearn to leave an imprint in another’s heart, in the world of thought. Isn’t that aspiring for too much or aspiring for something impossible since time’s tide will erase it all?

All I know is that I will not die, my light, without the attempt of shining. All I know is that life itself is a risk that must be taken, and I am willing to step out from the shadows, from the totality of darkness, into the light of the world. I will risk rejection.

Sometimes though, it is better to imagine than to face the reality. How sweet is imagination! I imagine a world with you, adventures that you could not conceive of in my mind. If only they were real…but the reality is that they will never occur, you will be deceived when making the unknown familiar. You will always be though, my familiar stranger at least, if in the attempt I could not be a part of your life, at least you are a part of me with that title but someday this memory will lose its light in the universe, death with time.

Too much light hurts the eyes I know. Darkness is also restful for the tired sight.

A Body’s Parts

I wish…I wish for many things unattainable for these hands to grasp, only aiming to reach the moon of the sky.

I wish…I wish for my eyes to finally find a loving gaze, that permanent place in which to gain comfort and peace, in which I can call home, but all they find are wandering eyes not willing to reside in my own, quickly looking but shifting their attention onwards to another place, to another’s eyes.

I wish…I wish for my feet to find rest from all the tireless search for love or for them to walk thousands of miles and resist feeling hopeless with the number of steps increasing, taking one more step without feeling that walking more is aimless but that is actually a progress leading closer to that yearned destination.

I wish…I wish for my ears to hear that love is existent and to believe it by hearing this told to me from another’s mouth; a consoling voice in all of life’s many chaotic sounds and voices full of screams but all the sounds my ears hear are mouths voicing words full of hate and anger, words that my ears rather be mute to listen to.

I wish…I wish for my mouth to taste the sweet embrace of another’s ardent lips and feel that words are unnecessary to express love but my mouth only is kissed by the empty cold wind and not by another’s touching warm skin.

I wish…I wish my heart could feel deeply without being hurt in the process, I wish for my heart to have the physical strength to endure the pain, and to continue on feeling without regrets.

I wish…I wish for my mind to burry the past ghosts that haunt me; memories lingering behind the moments, but instead these memories echoe in the form of thoughts in the cave of my mind.

***

Can the hands really hold the moon in their palms?

Can the tired eyes really find the strength to continue gazing, or are they too ashamed of hoping for love when they know that all they truly see is carelessness in other’s eyes.

Can the feet be walking without any effort and weight put upon them?

Can the mouth truly talk without the motion of emotion?

Can the heart truly feel without receiving pain? Isn’t pain a feeling?

Does a heart truly feel or is it an idealistic thought of the mind to think the heart been capable of feeling and see itself as a separate entity from feeling and its reason?

Can the mind be a receptacle of knowledge without the use of memories?



***

Wishes are hopes without considering realism’s spectrum of questions, without considering that bodies are just that, bodies that though can hold within them countless memories, feelings, and stories, they are vulnerable, nonetheless, to life’s greater truth that pain is an essential part, just as the hands, the eyes, the feet, the ears, the mouth, the heart, and the mind, to the body of life.