Crystal Ball

I looked in the crystal ball.
I saw my birth, rise, fall,
and death. I saw my life
with its darkness and light.
I saw roots. I saw my family
tree growing tall and strong.
I saw me as a child, exploring
unknowns, with an innocence
only children know and show.
I saw my future. I saw better
days. From an ariel view,
I saw the choices I made
and trees throwing shade.
I saw everyday as a game.
I was the star player showing
no fear: grinning ear to ear.
In the crystal ball, I saw
me at the top of a mountain.
I saw that I found a fountain
of youth. It’s the damn truth.
I saw it all in my crystal ball.
I know what I saw, and I saw
what I know. I saw my life
unfold. I saw me grow old.
In the crystal ball, I saw me
write deep into the night.

Carried Away

Today, I got carried away.
Instead of work, I play.
Sometimes I forget to live
without stress. The older
I get, the shorter the days.
Today, I got carried away
from what I was doing.
Half the time, I don’t know
which direction to go.
The other half of the time,
I don’t know if I should
go outside or stay in
and hide. These long legs
carry me away. One point
to the next. Feeling blessed
in my chest, I hold my head
high. I look to the sky. I see
wings carry birds away.
I feel the wind chill my skin.
I can count on my days
getting carried away.
My mind might stray, yet
my body will stay. Blue
skies littered with birds
help me find the words
needed to carry me away.
I look ahead and know that
one day, blues fade to black.

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.

Remember When

Remember when things were different?
The sky was a different color. It was
a different day with different weather.
Remember when we would laugh on
the back of the bus
? Remember when
we wished for this day to appear
out of thin air?
All we wanted to do
was grow up. Do you remember
when we were young and naïve?

We never thought our youth would
leave. Beneath a tree, we wished
for a better world: brighter skies.
Remember when life was simple?
Me neither, but I try to imagine
a time back then that must’ve
been some of our better days.
Anyways, remember when
life was not a maze or a haze
that would stay?
Remember
when all was well? Do you
remember when we thought
life was easy?
We can’t forget
where all the time went.
We must remember when
before the next story begins.



All Rise

When we all rise,
it won’t be a surprise.
When we all rise,
we avoid what lies.
When we all rise,
we remove our disguise.
When we all rise,
we can see the sky.
We have risen
for many reasons.
We all will rise
during the seasons.
From the ground below,
I feel no sorrow.
We all will rise
today and tomorrow.
Nothing is easy
on this journey.
We all have fallen;
now, we all must rise.
Just look toward the sky
one more time.