In Other Words

Life is a game of chess. In other words,
we will play until the king is put to rest.
Life is a game of 21. In other words,
we can hit or stand without knowing
the dealer’s plan. Life is a game of Risk.
In other words, take out your sword,
prepare for war and kick down a door.
Life is a game of dice. In other words,
some will shoot twice without thinking.
Life is a game of wins, losses, ties, tears,
blood, sweat, love, pain, hope, and loss.
In other words, take what’s yours,
love from the core and be a boss.


Paradise

It takes a special kind
of eyes to look around
and notice a paradise.
We don’t think twice
to worry or dwell on
all of the small things.
We are used to the sun,
so, when the sky rains,
we focus on our pain.
Rarely, do we let go
of the past that has
a stranglehold on us.
We choose to take
the bus instead of
taking a long walk.
There is beauty in
the things and people
we find ugly. It looks
bad if we’re judging.
Open your eyes and see
a world above and below
your feet. Seek new life
in the scope of your sight.
Create the life and love
you desperately need.
Kill that voice inside
your head – kill him
dead. Seek refuge beside
those joining you on
this wild ride. Remove
the veil covering your
eyes, open wide and see
life as a fleeting paradise.


Under Water

It’s been raining for 26 years straight.
I haven’t gotten tan since my life began.
Soaking wet, I had to learn to stay afloat.
I even built myself a boat. In my life,
I have seen friends, family, and strangers
encounter dangers only few understand.
I have seen some sink to the very bottom.
I never liked swimming, but it’s what I had
to do to keep living. I learned not to be
afraid to swim around before I sink down.
Some days, I’ll dive down to see buried
memories and under-water trees. The rain
never goes away as nature does its thing.
I am drenched, cold, and tired as I paddle
in place, creating ripples in time and space.
The water will rise higher, so I practice
holding my breath. I inhale first. I hope
for the best and prepare for the worst:
no air. I am under water, over my head,
but I am still alive, just extremely wet.


Still Here

I’m still here. Death mirrors
all life. I’m still here; fear
has left me. Time has blessed
me. Another year: I’m still here.

Through struggle, I have found
a common ground. I’m bound
to turn around every frown:
to return all stolen crowns.

Here, I am, still finding me,
doing my best to finally see
what it means to sails seas
and to grow tall with trees.

Through all the pain, I start
a journey of learning. I wish
to know all the places to go:
every single place to know.

I’m still here: I plan to live
a life that only I can give.







A Closed Book

Each day, an old book closes. The story
is finished; the pen runs dry. Each page
is filled with a bunch of smaller stories:
memories: words that echo through
the skulls of its reader. One day,
the story we are navigating through
will expire as we retire – as the fire
dies – souls will fly into open skies.
Lies will become truths. Rough will
become smooth. Old age will become
youth. We are the characters inside
an open book that will, one day,
be closed – to be open once again
by a different pair of hands.
Until the book closes, look closer
at the plot and decide your ending:
one better than you ever thought.
Keep writing your story. Make it
a good one. We are still writing;
let’s make a book that someone
would want to pick up and read:
a plant grown from a small seed.