Metamorphosis: Summer is gone!

Just when life is too perky and loud... When the sun throws it's golden sheet on the backs of those who kneel for it, when DJs are just implementing their joy in the disks before them, and when a tan is a common code for those who dare to fit in, a strange vibe strikes with no ahead notice. Something from above foretells a change.

The sun is lying. Its charismatic effect is suddenly fading away. A smile is no longer the same. Music is starting to take a slower and a more ritualistic tone. A chill is taking more of an overwhelming effect as it dances to the gods of tomorrow. Breezes have embraced a more confident sensation- a colder one indeed! I start to hear murmurs from the park across the block. It's the trees' merely silent sobbing. Pain arises on every leaf bleakly losing its essence and falling with yesterday's sunlight. However, change is inevitable. A squirrel that once pampered from a place to another is now still in his wooden shield and gently peering to what's about to embed. The chirps from afar are no longer to be heard. Life is grayer now. The windmill that cloaked once an owl is now revolting. Tension builds up as the last of windows close shut. When least expected, a lightening blooms. The only sound left to hear then is my own breath and heart pulse. Everything else is silenced. Not a single noise.Then, grey turns into a striking white then back to black. A roar from above declares a war, yet angels of mercy can't but weep.

Time is frozen. Every breath is now evident. Fumes of a sigh plead for company. A fire place is now bright and shimmering. Crashing sounds from the half ashed oak sticks can be the only sense of survival echoing along the ghosts of a cozy home. As I bury myself into thicker Kashmir sweaters, I hold in my hand a hot cup lying to my eyes. The vapor is but a warm trance. An illusion! A storyteller that, with the help of the fire-made shades, narrates a thousand year-old novel- a series of velvet incidents. A drunk flame of a candle to my far right ahead reels with laughs of irony. As I rub my clothed feet against the tamed lavender rug on the floor, the television screen ahead of me is almost mute. It's not about the words anymore, but rather about the signs of life or what seems to remain of it. The book on the coffee table ahead of me that pokes a plate of sweet potatoes dares to speak. I put the mug aside, reach out for it and flirt with the first couple of pages. I turn to my left where the vague scene tales the city showing from the pale window, then gaze back at the words in my hand and begin to dream. Tomorrow, is another day...

May I Dream?

It's strange how human greed can sometimes surpass our human capability of sacrifice. It is depressing how our strive for power mounts happiness. Desires become insatiable. We spend too much time focusing on the empty slice of the present that we forget the bless of what we have. We rush to cuddle a pillow at night to feel safe. When the cozy sheet hugs you, the breeze sneaks in through your window to put you to sleep. It's your pause away from the fast life we managed to give birth to. Sometimes, we must stop, take a breath and admire what we are missing. We spend our lives dedicated to fit the mold media has marketed. We renounce our natural uniqueness and scar it into what others consider acceptable. We end up losing our identity and bleakly fading away. We transform from being people to numbers.

You see, I have a dream. Imagine a world where everyone is different. You wake up in the morning and gaze from the window to find out that no two people dress the same. No two cars are identical. Some are randomly painted and drawn on. Green is a color that actually exists somewhere else other than in trash cans. Every balcony has green vines and  mini orchids growing out of pottery vases just like Grandma's do. A turtle may exist there as well for no reason. Everyone one is happy and satisfied with the prevailing simplicity. Everyone acts random. Our actions are to be the only identity to which we can relate to. Imagine waking up every morning wanting to be happy. Just happy. Whether it's by making a change, helping a kitten come down a tree or just helping an elder with his groceries. What I dare and say is not a pink dream. It is however a matter of perspective. Solid truth is but an illusion. What we see of the world is our interpretation of the truth. It's a self analysis. Our judgments are affected by our character and intellectual abilities. Since we all are different, we all have different perspectives of the world. This may be the main reason why we can't ennoble. We can't accept difference as part of our human nature.

Our deepest fear is not darkness but rather the bright light. It's the power that we fear more than weakness. When power is nurtured as a top priority, the addiction to its glamour grows a tumor on our human compassion. As a result, we develop the urge for self destruction.

When the last tree is chopped, when the last oil drill is depleted, when the last river is poisoned, when all air is contaminated, when pain is an everyday factor, and when Earth is about to quit on us, what will be the reason we fought for then? Would it be worth it? It's only then when we shall realize that we can't eat money...

Man's World

     It's hard when words die at the lips of mine not being able to venture out. When the yearn to speak is overwhelmed by restrictions imposed by the moment, every breath becomes a burden. When hope flees and the verging future seems so vague and puzzling, when my thoughts over thrive and music is so blue, smiling is too painful. Bumping against the windshield as screaming rain splashes on the glass, I bury myself deeper in a heavy coat as the sweepers slap water coats off of the front glass. Slight music playing on FM radio tempting me to over think, regret and grief. The vapor I exhale is plain sad. That of bemoan spilling. Those words I never dared to preach are suffocating. Life is just disappointing sometimes. When friendship is not enough, a high five is a slap to reality. Dreams may be the only resort. But then, aren't they overrated?

     Those  ferocious emotions can make an interesting story, a moving song or even one more memory. Are we broken on every occasion to be rebuilt? Maybe. God works in mysterious ways. That's for sure. The brightest of endings are reached by the most unexpected paths. A road to a golden chair is always reached by branching dark tunnels. However, that which gets me to your heart shall always remain unknown.

     I can't describe how warm pain feels around you. You're a random joy of a perky character that not only prints on every person you encounter, but "snowballs" to inspire people. Inspire me. Too cheesy? Love is supposed to be neither rational nor complex. Well, that's how it seems sometimes but shouldn't. It's good to be different sometimes- to be awkward. Being you is what categorizes you from others. A funny smile, a funky hair, a weird perception or even some weird shoes. Everything one coats himself with is part of his identity. It's trivial to stop at every howling pack to the throw a bone.

    I wish I was more capable of confrontation. I have dodged face offs often in my life. I'm still searching of an upgraded version of man in the mirror. Change is a must as I shed a part of myself to gain new layers. I will always have butterflies before flipping the page. New chapters are new chances to put into action skills I've gain before. But what about you?

     I wish I had more answers than questions, but I'll always wonder what would it have been like if you actually knew how I felt, or ever dared to. I can always write and wonder more as you can always smile and feel free to like what portrays to you of this...

Life of Me

I can’t quite remember how it all started, but I guess it’s true that you always carry a part of the past with you no matter how painful it is. Blurred flashbacks bring back places and voices that I manage to link together every once and awhile: confounded lost eyes of mommy and daddy lied, “Don’t you worry. It’s OK.” Sleeping that night on the floor of my parents’ bedroom was fun, yet quite suspicious.

In the early morning, when darkness hadn't completely faded away, my siblings and I were shaken from our mattresses to leave. Dressed randomly and shoved into the car, we watched dad fighting the gas pedal while yelling frantically to get down, but we had to steal looks to what’s happening up there. Carefully peering to the windshield, funny looking “Christmas lights” soared sloughing the peaceful silence off the vague smoggy sky. Still hypnotized, I watched them as they dropped bottles that boomed raucously when they hit the city. Blooming flames devoured everything in the territory. Dad drove faster.

After twenty minutes, we managed somehow to reach Grandma’s where it was safe enough to stay. We unpacked and sat frozen in front of the TV. Even when there was a power outage, shadows, so fierce, formed by candles all over the room spoke the news instead. At that point, I was still unaware of the fact that war was on and danger wasn't that of a Harry Potter confrontation with Lord Voldemort! At least I didn't until I started volunteering helping homeless refugees.

After a couple of days of fear and thorough confusion, lying down on my mat all day long was agonizing enough for me to decide to start escorting my uncles to the public school where they said they were helping others. I was kind of nervous at first for school meant more homework to me, and it was my summer break! Walking down a couple of blocks, people started to show up near the school. The sad crowd was all over the playground. Some gloomy faces were crowded around a board game, while others were trying to watch the news on a vague screen of an old TV. Lit broken cigarettes were the lovely companions of many. The kids, on the other hand, played together as if nothing was going on.

Somehow I sensed a weird connection with them. I never knew the true state of being of a refugee, although I was one, until I saw them. I was able to reflect my inner thoughts and feelings by mingling with them. In a way I find hard to explain, they have helped me see myself and the world from a different perspective.

Small volunteer work I did over a month made such a drastic difference. Little food I was able to give and little medicine as well made everything a little better. Standing next to giant hot pots, I used to wait for my uncles to pour the soup into bowls with a side of rice. Carefully, I would walk around and hand out what was in my hands. Most of the days, we had to wait until we returned home to have our lunch, or as others call it: dinner.

There’s even this one time where we were forced to go back home to get a few necessities we left behind. Strangely, unlike the first time we ventured on the road, I was totally aware of how critical and dangerous the situations was. In a way, fighting jets were more vicious and destructive than I remember. Images of the screaming victims were louder and remarkably vivid!

Fake laughs of an innocent childhood were forced to be washed away. Ever since, I've sought to discover the world that only few has seen before. Actually, I've tried to create the model of a better world as I see it. Sometimes when we fall down, we don’t pay attention to how the universe looks like from the ground. That incident paved the way to achievements I later went after regardless of how relatively limited they might seem compared to other achievements done by role models who got the chance to see the world from my angle. I’ll never stop evolving and giving to others the best of me for that’s the core of humanity. I shall roam the world, to infinity and beyond, for I’m inspired.

Bedtime Truth

Every now and then

Enjoy a treat

And stare at a shooting star

May we someday meet.

Ponder your thoughts at night

Dreaming of a day

Where the book you read is life

I shall see you there!

And when your eyes collapse

Wake up, arise and see

That the world is but a play

And truth is but a dream.

Fictions are but facts

That others can never see.

Kittens are so fluffy

And mermaids are so real!

Everything you desire

 Is within reach.

Girl I love your mind

And the words you have to say.

Maybe it was your lullaby

It played November Rain?

Maybe your bed time story

A thrill of joy and pain?

Could it be your cupcakes?

Or the foam of milky shakes?

You are certainly different

In a way hard to explain.

Sweetie, shop and never stop!

Even a flower needs its dew.

You deserve to have the glamor.

I met no one like you!

Maybe it's the blood 

Merging east and west.

Maybe it's neither.

Maybe it's something else.

Maybe you're a character...

Then, may all of this be true?

Does this chapter have an end?

Or does it have a due?

Is tomorrow made of choice?

Or a fate meant for you?

I know I can wonder more

But I just won't have a clue.

I guess we'll have to live for now

And give our chat a chew.

And may I say it once again

And will forever do:

I hope you have a happy life

And all your dreams come true

I have wrapped it well enough

And served it well to you.

My heart will forever now

Be a part of you.

Valentine

Dare I venture to your eyes?

Beneath the shine I shall find

Blur scars of mysteries

Of the cold fog to verify

That at the lights dim afar

Shining on a jar of hearts

Harvested when the moon is full

With a smile you coat your stealthy darts.

Along the words you defy

All attempts to rectify

The black intentions of what you see

Your conscience dies in agony.

From a home to another you enchant

The dark words of what you spell:

"Oh heart ahead, trick or treat?"

But both are one in what you mean!

Your veil controls what seems divine.

A victim of yours is hypnotized.

In the eyes of yours it's Halloween

yet others call it Valentine.

Grey

It was my bug indeed

I dream when life is pale.

I cling to thoughts that deem

That few of us are sane.

In a world of black and white

I always seek for grey.

In words that type and pause

I sense but fake bleak chains.

In a world that paints with numbers

I read none but names.

Could it be that I am different?

My thoughts are never plain.

I KNOW I am a dreamer

My thoughts just slide away.

When I first uncloaked your eyes

Your words were joy and pain

I proposed a hundred times

And laughed and spoke a cane

Which desires of mine crouched on

And splashed before you as rain.

I know that we're but people

That speak and dream in vain.

I swear I fell in love with you

And know we'll never gain

The chance to meet again.

I always thought I knew

But so never dared to say.

I draft in smiles when whisper

To you what I embrace.

I guess I'll have to bow

To the fact that we will now

And ever be afar

Compatible yet refrained...

Let It Be

Shall you know or no

My heart is what you own.

Kneeling at your shadow

No love was ever shown.

At the cross of a yellow road

I stood with a gaze and sigh.

Two paths diverged ahead

And I chose the less traveled by.

Enchanted to you meet

I marched against the breeze

Doubting if it's real

Or a dream within a dream.

Is it but a story?

Or a trance of what I feel?

Murmurs to my mind

Whispered by the trees

Chanting along your name

Guiding ahead the way

Foretelling mysteries!

A fleeting shooting star

Slashed above my head

Flashing all the cards

Shuffling my thoughts instead.

Lost with lots of speed

Blood pounding through my ears

My chest fighting the beats

Strident with ecstasy.

Living with the lie

That tomorrow it shall be

Days turned to nights

Hours turned to years

And I still have the hope

That you are not afar

Reaching out for me

Or so is what I want?

Or so is what I need?

Or so is what it seems?

Or so...

Let it be!