Out of Control

The world is out of control.
Sharp minds become dull.
Stress can squeeze the life
out of a soul. If there is not
a light in sight, just breathe.
Keep fighting; don’t freeze.
Know you can’t change
the direction of the breeze.
Sometimes, it’s better to stay
than to walk away and leave.
People are out of control.
There are more questions
than answers. There are
more songs than dancers.
Life is like rolling some dice.
It is hard to roll the same
number twice. Each day
is another opportunity to
encounter something new,
to reach a higher view,
to get better-looking shoes.
The puppet-master has cut
the strings making things
out of control. The guy
upstairs never stopped
shaking the snow globe.
When life is out of control,
the answer finds the soul.

Gray Days

Some days are gray days.
Dark clouds. Heavy rain.
No umbrella can help
us stay dry. Some days,
gray days fade to blue.
Most days, raindrops fall
turning seeds into trees.
Some days, the breeze
reminds us of the cold
world we occupy. We try
to get through the gray
days. On the worst days,
we find ways to follow
the light that pierces
the darkness. We have
seen many gray days.
We know it to be tough
when smooth becomes
rough. We know that
life has its ups, downs,
and roundabouts. Life
is full of green grass,
blue skies, gray days
and we are full of life.
Look past the haze;
do not let gray days
take the sunshine away.

Where I Be

This is where I be.
This is where I’m free:
away from people
and near the sea.
I float away. I cut
all burning ropes.
This is where I be:
caught in-between
being alone
and feeling free.
Like the ocean
breeze, I create
a flow I know,
and I just go.
This is where I be.
This is where I feel
myself. I am me:
just where I need
to be – living
next to the trees.

Dear NASA,

Give me space: more light years:
enough time to chase the stars –
more chances to face my fears.
I am a space cadet with ears
that tune into alien frequencies.
You see? I hear what most don’t,
I see and believe that there is a
roaring breeze above the clouds:
a galaxy that is made just for me.
I see energy, atoms, and matter
for what they are. Life is strange,
but here we are. I want space:
all the space in the world, and all
the space outside of it. I admit.
I want to take lift – take flight
deep into the cold, still night.
I want to see life’s gift from afar:
the gift that most of us cherish.
I wish to travel past the confides
of my thinking and view my life
next to a shooting star’s light.
Sometimes, I seek outer space
when I just need inner peace:
enough strength to be free.

Washing Away

Life, before my eyes,
has been washing away.
The vast ocean takes
what I took for granted.
The vast ocean makes
me stay in my place.
On the edge of the beach,
I feel water beneath me.
I look ahead and I see
life, before my eyes,
washing away. Nothing is
here to stay. Life comes.
It goes before the water
hits my toes – all the same.
Many have washed away
after dancing in the rain.
After all, I can’t complain;
We all endure some pain
inside the same hurricane.