Dream Life

                                              I'm not perfect, I'm me. I've made bad decisions and wrong choices, but I'm me. I've said the wrong things, I've said the right things, because I'm me. I don't like everything I've done, but I did it because I'm me. I've loved the wrong people and trusted the wrong people and I'm still me. If I had the chance to start again, I wouldn't change a thing. Why? Because I'm me. There are a lot of good things about me, you just need to look past the imperfections to see what's right. If you can't do that then it's your loss.  I'm the best I can be. I am ME.

                                           First snow! The flakes, So few , so light, Remake the world In solid white. All bundled up, We feel as if We were fat penguins, Warm and stiff. The toy-packed shops Half split their sides, And Mother brings home Things she hides. Old carols peal. The dusk is dense. There is a mood Of sweet suspense. The shepherds wait, The kings, the tree--- All wait for something Yet to be, Some miracle. And then it's here, Wrapped up in hope--- Another year!

                                       This being human is a guesthouse.  Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, Some momentary awareness comes    as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,   who violently sweep your house     empty of its furniture,  still, treat each guest honorably.   He may be clearing you out     for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice,   meet them at the door laughing,       and invite them all in.   Be grateful for whoever comes,     because each has been sent       as a guide from beyond.

                                        I guess you could call me broken, says one. I'm still lonely, says another, but now I can name it with a song. In my poem, says another, I can forget I am forgotten. Now I understand being misunderstood, says another. And another says, in a bold, undeniable voice of power, I won't step down from myself again. And they are beautiful, beautiful, standing one by one at the mic where they have come forth at last from behind the curtain.

                                    like winning the lottery/ or finding God in your sock drawer. I think love is something that happens to other people nebulous, distant, an invention of the movies; I think love is like death/as in, it happens to everyone/ to you, until it happens/ to you, and then where else could you be but in love? Where else could you be but in the belly of the beast, ? that oozing cavern where people go in fairy tales? I think love is a creation. I think maybe you shape it with your hands, I think maybe you find it stuck in your molars, I think maybe it comes to you when you're in the shower, your face tilted towards the water while your mind melts somewhere else, I think maybe we've all been naming it wrong. You know that love? That falling-to your-knees love? That where'd - the water-go love? That hold-me-close-I'll-never-leave-I-know-your-favorite- coffee-creamer love? That what-we talk-about-when- we talk-about-love love? You ever felt what? I

                                       Now I become myself. It's taken Time, many years and places; I have been dissolved and shaken, Worn other people's faces, Run madly, as if Time were there, Terribly old, crying a warning, "Hurry, you will be dead before--" (What? Before you reach the morning? Or the end of the poem is clear? Or love safe in the walled city?) Now to stand still, to be here, Feel my own weight and density! The black shadow on the paper Is my hand; the shadow on the paper As thought shapes the shaper Falls heavy on the pages, is heard. All fuses now, falls into places From wish to action, word to silence, My work, my love, my time, my face Gathered into one intense Gesture oof growing like a plant. As slowly as the ripening fruit Fertile, detached, and always spent, Falls but does not exhaust the root, So all the poem is, can give, Grows in me to become the song, Made so and rooted by love. Now there is time and Time is young. O, in this single hour

                                     The waves have a story to tell me, Ad I lie on the lonely beach; Chanting aloft in the pine-tops, The wind has a lesson to teach; But the stars sing an anthem of glory I cannot put into speech. The waves tell of ocean spaces, Of hearts that are wild and brave,  Of populous city places, Of desolate shores they lave, Of men who sally in quest of gold To sink in an ocean grave. The wind is a mighty roamer; He bids me keep me free, Clean from the taint of the gold-lust, Hardy and pure as he; Cling with my love to nature, As a child to the mother-knee. But the stars throng out in their glory, And they sing of the God in man; They sing of the Mighty Master, Of the loom his fingers span, Where a star or a soul is part of the whole, And weft in the wondrous plan. Here by the camp-fire's flicker, Deep in my blanket curled, I long for the peace of the pine-gloom, When the scroll of the Lord is unfurled, And the wind and the wave are silent, And world is s

                                               Day after day, I walk the same streets, Waiting for a moment, When somebody's feet Stop traversing the sidewalk, And simply stand, Beside my lone figure, And reach for my hand, A gesture so simple, Yet so hard to do, To stick to the promise, Of "I'll be here for you". We don't fight the same war, And I'll give me yours, For as long as this world, Keeps coming untied, I'll be there to fix it, Right by your side, But no feet stop walking, They all have somewhere to be, Until the only ones left, Are my shadow and me.

                                  You tell her that she's beautiful, She laughs and asks you how, When there's crack on her front tooth, And there's a crease between her brow, Where is all the beauty, In her slightly-too-big nose, In her freckles on her cheeks, And how her hair takes years to grow, And you wonder where she learnt, That beauty lies upon your skin, So that she thinks it doesn't cover, Everything she holds within, Its very definition, Is "pleasing to the sense or mind", But she's let them change the way, She thinks her beauty is defined, It breaks your heart to know her mirror, Is how she estimates her worth, And not the lives she's made much better, By simply being on this earth.

                                    When every dream      has turned to dust,      and your highest hopes      no longer soar. When places you      once yearned to see,      grow further away      on distant shores. When every night      you close your eyes,      and long inside      for something more. Remember this       and only this,       if nothing else       you can recall---- There was a life       a girl once led,       where you were loved       the most of all.

                                          We were like       the ranging sea,       a winter love       that could not be. Our voices were        the ocean's roar,        we cried until        we could cry no more. We mocked the storms         and they fell the trees,         our broken limbs         among scattered leaves. The tides had shown          what we did not heed,          the water holds---          and then recedes.

                                         If you have a big heart it gets heavy, as if a stone hangs from your chest, that was put there by the people who lied and said they'd give their best. If you have a big heart you'll get tired of all the things you've left unsaid, for there are words you could have spoken that would have filled your heart instead. If you have a big heart you'll feel burdened by all the hopefulness you hold. You'll grow weary of compliance but still do everything you're told. If you have a big heart it gets heavy, and you may feel it weighs a ton. There will be times you feel defeated, but having a big heart means you've won.

                                         Putting words together Forming inside my head Ready to be said, The real question is, Will they be heard? When I speak, will they be slurred? What is my worth? Do I deserve to walk this earth? Should I say, All the words I want to say, Or do I preserve, What is left of my self-worth? The hell with it! I must address and express, Depression holds me in darkness. Anxiety tells me, The darkness will keep me safe. Racing thoughts, put words in my head, Spinning them, Telling me I should be dead. I am nothing. I am worthless. I am empty. I am darkness. I am ugly. I can't get it right. These are the words inside my head. If I put them on paper, Release them, set them free, I'll have a moment where I can breathe. You may not understand the words I say, I made it, One more day. One more fight. You may not see the struggle inside. It's here . It's real. I do not lie. I confess this isn't easy, But these are the words I need to say.

                                                I paint the night sky in dazzling flames like my mind on its high ride I hold my heart in my hands and burn it to ashes As the fears creep out of the  crevices of my skull I plant seeds and flowers bloom within me in this cold winter My body aches as I shed the skin and grow a thick rib cage to protect my  empty heart I wrap myself in a shawl to succumb the flames within me Fears Burns Desires I leave this world another day  I am born again today

                                          You may not understand why is top to watch the leaves fall, for there's another world and it beckons me with its call. for years it has been knocking, calling only certain souls- it's the whisper through the trees and the quiet breeze that rolls. it's searching our humanity for the wild and restless brains, for those that see greater beauty but also see greater pain. i am yet to meet anyone who knows this world as well but the journey of the leaves have a lot of stories to tell. they spread hope from the people who entered this world to roam but they liked it so much  that they now call it their home.

                                           After a while you learn The subtle difference between Holding a hand and chaining a soul And you learn that love doesn't mean learning And company doesn't always mean security And you begin to learn That kisses aren't contracts And presents aren't promises And you begin to accept your defeats With your head up and your eyes ahead With the grace of woman Not the grief of a child And you learn To build all your roads on today Because tomorrow's ground is Too uncertain for plans And futures have a way Of falling down in mid flight After a while you learn That even sunshine burns if you get too much So you plant your won garden And you decorate your own soul Instead of waiting For someone to bring you flowers And you learn That you really can endure That you are really strong And you really do have worth And you learn and you learn With every goodbye, you learn.

                                          Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stodd And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood  and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

                                               Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plum the hazel shells with a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has O'er-brimm'd their dammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft -lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sond asleep, Drow'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden  head across a brook; Or by a cyder-press, with patient look, Thou watch

                                     I made my life an arrow, The tip a deadly sharpened point, So people never came to close, That I may disappoint, I'd sit and watch in silence, As the world would pass me by, Wondering how far I'd fall, If I ever tried to fly, You watched me with such interest, Like it was me you'd tried to find, As though you knew all of my secrets, And the thoughts within my mind, You looked like all the others, But what I did not know; Was while I'd made myself an arrow, You had made yourself a bow, And apart we'd both been useless, But we'd finally worked out why, Since you need someone to pull you back, If you ever want to fly, So you aimed me with precision, And I flew straight from the start, Until I landed with a solid thud, On the target of your heart.

                                   Oh I would live a sweet forever Inside the moments after waking, Where fragments left by dreams Take just a little too long breaking. For I've heard that there are realms Trapped in those seconds in between, Where life is a collision of reality and dream. What a wonder to have nothing More or less than you believe, To live within a world Of what your sleep filled mind conceives. But it breaks a heart to know It lasts no longer than a yawn, For with one rub of tried eyes Into reality I'm drawn.  

                                         She told me that the ocean, Had been calling out her name, When the tide went out each evening, She felt like she should do the same, The waves tugged at her ankles, As they pooled around her feet, Whispering of wonders, That she still was yet to meet, But every time I asked her, If she knew the reason why, She simply said this arid world, Had turned her deep heart dry, There was just one way she knew of, To finally feel like she was free, And it was 14000 feet, Beneath the cold and stormy sea, Then early in November, She slipped like water from our hands, Left nothing of her salty breath, Or footprints in the sand, And I hope she found the ocean, Made up for things this world had lacked, For she left a note to say goodbye, And then never came back.

                                            It's ok to not have answers. It's ok to not be strong. It's ok to do nothing at all. It's ok, so ok, to be wrong. It's ok to just be you. It's ok to lose a game or fight. It's ok to take a nap. It's ok to cry in bed at night. It's ok to go your own way. It's ok to play for fun. It's ok to fail a test. It's ok to not be number one. It's ok to be alone. It's ok to make a mistake. It's ok to stare out a window. It's ok to need a break. When I was young so long ago here's something I wish I knew- When the world says, Listen to me It's ok to listen to you.                                         

                                         " There was a girl, who was sacred of life itself. So for the longest time she just kept running away as far as she could see. She ended up on the other side of the world, escaped to the place that was exact epicenter of life. It was so loud there, that she wasn't able to hear herself. And for some time it felt good. Until one day, when the whole world went silent, and she was forced to see, that she was just hiding away in the castle made of air; locked up with her own restrained dreams. And then she realized, that fear will never go away. so she stopped waiting for some kind of prince to save her, she left the castle, and made that fear to be her guard. And only walking side by side with it, she found a way that she was truly seeking."

                                            the sun is setting and i can't see it because the clouds are in the way. but that's okay. you've already shown me the fear of when something beautiful disappears. without a goodbye, without knowing why. i try to see through-to the sun, to you. but you're clouded with pride. you hide until you fade from view. it's true that goodbyes are painful. but now you must explain to my heart why you had to depart and take away your warmth and your light. i fight the darkness every night, and i wish i was brave, but i am afraid that the sun will never rise. it wasn't wise to give you so much power over me. you see, now there's not enough left to generate electricity. and i'm scared and stumbling in the clod but i'm told that my body will adjust. it must. it's just learnt not to trust.

                                                     I don't believe time heals everything.               It helps, it does. After a while you won't cry about it all the time.    It won't consume your every thought anymore               You do get better.                 You'll laugh,                  And smile.    You'll even have a lot of great days.             But it's still there.         You just learn to live with it.            This is how things are now.             So you get used to it.                    But,     That doesn't mean it ever goes away.        It's still deep in your soul. Still stops you in your tracks when something               reminds you of it.           You'll have those moments        Where your heart hurts really bad.       I don't think time heals everything               Sure it gets better,       But it's a scar that never goes away. A broken bone that still aches oon rainy days.

                                         Life is but a stopping place  A pause in what's to be, A resting place along the road,     To sweet eternity. We all have different journeys, Different paths along the way, We all were meant to learn some things,    But never meant to stay... Our destination is a place, Far greater than we know. For some the journey's quicker, For some the journey's slow. And when the journey finally ends, We'll claim a great reward, And find an everlasting peace, Together with the lord.

                                       How beautiful is the moon, glowing brightly in the night skies. Hiding herself during noon, So you'll never know if she cries.     Alone she sits in the sky,     guiding those who need her light     Warming the hearts of those who cry,     But always keeping herself locked up tight. Though surrounded by many stars, In solitude she would rather be. A consequence produced by scars, Shh...can you here her silent plea?      Away from people, away from pain,      She hides herself, in plain sight.      I've told you once and I'll tell you again,      The story of a beautiful moon         whose light glows brightest of night.

  I've always admired roses But not for their color There's something about them That I haven't yet discovered Yet everyone tells me That I'm looking into deep That it is just a flower  Just a little prize you can keep But yet there is something special About the roses that you see And It's not about the petals It's about the thorns to me It puzzles me how something So beautiful and rare Can cut you so deep And you wouldn't even care

                                     i used to believe that decisions were either right or wrong, that we were meant to travel roads where our journey be long. but lately i've been thinking some paths are for short seasons and moving on doesn't mean that we had the wrong reasons. if dreams don't make sense any more, is it wrong to say goodbye? and if lovers end up parting ways, does it mean they were wrong to try? maybe we are too hard on ourselves when we come to a fork in the road. and i think it's time that we stopped carrying our mistakes as a heavy load. you will always wear your decisions, but it is you who chooses how. so wear your past with pride because  it's brought you to where you are now.

  When someone asks what i'm scared of I play it basic and say the dark. Sometimes I'll say heights, Needles or even sharks. Maybe I'll say spiders, Or flying above the ground. I'll say confined spaces, Or even pain and loud sounds. But I hide my real fears And put it on a far shelf, Cause my biggest fear is that you'll see me The way I see myself.

                                    It is said that before entering the sea a river trembles with fear. She looks back at the path she has traveled, from the peaks of the mountains, th elong winding road crossing forests and villages. And in front of her, she sees an ocean so vast, that to enter  there seems nothing more than to disappear forever. But there is no other way. The river can not go back. Nobody can go back. To go back is impossible in existence. The river needs to take the risk of entering the ocean because only then will fear disappear, because that's where the river will know it's not about disappearing into ocean, but of becoming the ocean.

                                     I drift in and out of people's lives, Like a feather in the breeze, You never really know I'm there, Until I start to leave, I don't make my connections deep, Because I'm scared of what I'll lose, I don't try to compete with anyone else, And I'll never make you choose, I prefer to stick to the sidelines, Because the spotlight hurts my eyes, I hide behind a constant smile, So you won't know it's a disguise, People tend to forget I'm there, When I'm in a crowded room, I can disappear for days on end, And I'm bound to do it soon, Don't worry if you notice I'm gone, I never meant to stay, But I know that you won't miss me long, I'll be forgotten in a day.

                                          I don't know much about  how to label the things i feel. all i know is that when i look at the sky, i see freedom. when i look at the dirt, i see breakthrough. when i look at the ocean, i see serenity. and when i look at you, i see everything.

                              I'm going to love you in your weakest moments to your strongest ones.  I'm going to love you when you're happy and I'm going to still love you the most when you're sad. Don't you understand? I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere I want to love you, each and every piece of you. I want you with your imperfections as much as I want you for you.  And I'm always going to be here loving you with everything.

  One night she took, her memories out, and hung them in the sky, She hooked one on every distant star, and as they burned down into scars, she knew that's how she wanted them to stay, beautiful but faraway.                                             

                                     Time will say nothing but I told you so, Time only knows the price we have to pay; If I could tell you I let you know. If we should weep when clowns put on their show, If we should stumble when musicians play, Time will say nothing but I told you so. There are no fortunes to be sold, although, Because I love you more than I can say, If I could tell you I would let you know. The winds must come from somewhere when they blow, There must be reason why the leaves decay; Time will say noting but I told you so. Perhaps the roses really want to grow, The vision seriously intends to stay; If I could tell you I would let you know. Suppose the lions all get up and go, And the brooks and soldiers run away; Will time say nothing but I told you so? If I could tell you I would let you know.

                                             i know right now you feel broken like a pile of shattered glass. as though your wishes are all strewn like dandelion seeds in the grass. i know you feel like a snowflake tumbling wildly on its fall. you had hoped for a soft landing but you're still swept up in it all. bur your dreams aren't birthday candles that you have one chance to blow. and failure isn't permanent- it just gives you room to grow. the earth has its tragedies too, but it's still a beautiful place. just look at all the miracles staring you right in the face: broken windows can be repaired. brand new dandelions can sprout. and flames can be reignited even when you blow them out. it's the world's way of telling you you're going to be just fine. all you have to do is give it a bit of time.

                                                                       And the sun was setting, and a light wind blew,                                   Painting the skies in magenta and blue,                                       And a bird on a wire was singing,                                                 And no one notices,                                                   And no one cared,                                           No one watched the sky,                                             No one heard the song,                                             But still the bird sang,                                     Because the song was beautiful,                                     Because time needed a melody,                                  The way the skies needed a color,                                        And then a man sat down,                              Still young, but his soul was getting tired,                                Tired because no one watche

                                 If you've listened close to silence, I'm sure that you have heard, The gentle constant ringing, In the space between two words, When you really pay attention, You find it's not just in your head, But instead is whispers of the words, The world has left unsaid, It's " I love you" left unspoken, And a mothers last goodbye, That she never had the chance to say, As she watched her daughter die, It's forgiveness never given, And a "sorry" left too late, That would have saved a best friends life, If they'd known it could not wait, It's a phrase that could have helped them, And it's secrets that could heal, It's words from those too scared to say, The truth of how they feel, But you have an advantage, For you're still alive to speak, Words that could help save a life, Or give strength to someone weak, So many you never leave unspoken, Words the whole world ought to hear, Before they just become the ri

                                            you're looking in the mirror and you don't like what you see. You're nothing like the person that by now you thought you'd be. and the voices in your head start telling you those lies so now there's a tremor in your lip and tears inside your eyes. they tell you about the others who are so much better than you and you've heard it enough times that you start to believe it's true:   that everything you've worked to be and everything you've made when put against another life just all begin to fade. but oh, you need to wipe your eyes to see things as they are. a life of your own making should never be put on par. and their grass just may be greener but that is not worth knowing for the greenest grass cannot compare to the garden that you're growing.

                                  You are still the child who gently places felled baby bird back in their nests. You are still the soft soul that gets your heart broken over cruel words and awful acts when you watch the news. You are still the gentle heart who once tried to heal a flower by trying to sick it's petals back when ignorant feet trampled it. This is why you are important. This is why you will always be needed. Kindness is the greatest endangered thing. And here you are, existing, with your heart so full with it.

                                memories follow such old patterns. I don't remember what i had for dinner last night, but i remember sitting in my first- grade classroom, listening to my grey-haired teacher talk about flames. "be careful", she said, " they look pretty when they flicker but they can easily become a fire.' years have passed since then, but it's a lesson that has never left me. it comes back in the form of a perfectly timed raindrop that rolls lazily down my spine just seconds before the sound of thunder. years have passed and this pattern has somehow found its way to people too. my eyes drowsily trace around his fingertips and suddenly i am that same little girl sitting cross-legged on the classroom floor wondering. will things always be most beautiful night before they destroy you?

                                      I am a witch with rhymes and reasons. I am a changeling like the seasons. My mother is the moon, My father is the sun; With Goddess Earth am i as one. I am a Witch , a pagan child. Mother Nature's spirit so wild Grows within me, Flows within me, Meandering like a spellbound stream, Enchanting my every waking dream. I breathe the air of liberation, I tend the fire of transformation, I drink the water of creation, Earth-magics is my conjuration. I am a Witch of shadow and light, Of Avalon mists and ravens' flight. I am a Witch, with pride say I, For a Witch's soul Does never die.

                                  When i was little, i used to watch raindrops sliding down the care window. i thought that perhaps they were racing to get across the finish line. i noticed the way the idle droplets were rescued by their brothers colliding into them and propelling them forward. now that i'm older , i watch people . and i wonder why we are all still pretending that we don't need others to nudge us to keep moving forward when we get a little stuck along this journey we call life.

                                      i don't know exactly in which breath i broke and in which breath healed. It's all a blur of slow fades and quick unraveling's, gradual growth and sudden revelations, seasons of life overlapped like crossword puzzles, except i had no clues to solve the problems. reality was not quite as black and white but i got here, didn't i? the pen markings are evidence that life is just one big mess of trial and error. i think in a way i am still breaking and still healing and my heart is still working overtime to keep me safe. once it starts it does not stop but my word, i do not want it to. see how i am a little less scared and a little bit stronger and oh, see how i'm doing just fine.

                                          I think about you everyday I plan out what to say You have no idea, you have no clue Just how much I think about you I try not to stare, I try not to hide I try not to show that I have always lied If I had told you before Perhaps you might not be the same I want to tell you how I feel But the voices inside makes me hush So I keep it down inside my heart Hoping that nothing falls apart Where ever you go, my heart will follow But sadly, ever, only I will know  I hope my heart will never be broken All because of my love unspoken

  When you feel isolated or  When you feel that you're alone, Fancy your mind Explore yourselves, you might find some holes, Holes that are too deep. You may think it's and another pain, Which cannot be healed and sealed Nevertheless those holes are something that can make you heal Without sealing. Those are the doors showing you hope. A hope to fix yourself. A hope to love yourself. A hope for a hope.

                                     I remember sitting on the swing in our backyard when i was eight years old, thinking about how strange it was that i wouldn't remember that exact moment in a few months. Eleven years later & perhaps the irony of it all is how clear that memory still is for me. i think about it often not sitting on the swing but just the messiness of memories and how at any given time, we can exist in a thousand different places just by brushing up against other lives. it's a scary and beautiful thing, don't you think? there are things we have said and done that are so easily forgotten, but somewhere, in some mind, they are remembered. i wonder about all the things i am. how in some stories i may be the conflict and in others, the resolution. how i might be nothing more than the girl who ordered a flat white with one sugar but even still, i exist outside of this body and isn't that incredible? we are not just living , we are painting memories . ho

                                         I'm my biggest problem I'm my very last hope My patheticness is humbling I still don't know how to cope My mind is always on the run Yet my body stays forever frozen I always find myself stunned At the paths of which I've chosen My best never seems good enough My best self can't compete Every single day seems tough My worst self is hard to defeat Constantly in a state of depression Even when life's going well It is a different kind of oppression Being trapped in your own personal hell I know things could be worse But things could always be better Thinking I'll only find peace in a hearse Only content when I'm six feet under I think of all the people id leave behind I think about their sadness But if only they could read my mind Witness my mind's madness  

                                In the middle of the night, when we get up after making love, we look at each other in complete friendship, we know so fully what the other has been doing. Bound to each other like mountaineers coming down from mountain, bound with tie of the deliver - room, we wander down the hall to the bathroom, I can hardly walk, I wobble through the granular shadow less air, I know where you are with my eyes closed, we are bound to each other with huge invisible threads, our sexes muted , exhausted, crushed , the whole body a sex- surely this is the most blessed time of my life, our children asleep in their beds, each fate like a vein of abiding mineral not discovered yet. I sit on the toilet in the night, you are somewhere in the room, I open the window and snow has fallen in a  steep drift, against the pane, I  look up, into it, a wall of cold crystals, silent and glistening, I quietly call to you and you come and hold my hand and I say I cannot see beyond it. I c

                                           Who we really are from the inside?    What stories we have buried What are we trying to hide? Saying : I am totally okay Even when a thousand times we cried             Busy in faking perfection Just to fuel the futile pride? and in between of all that laughter    There is a thing that I have realized        That the happiest face among us Are the ones who have already died.

                                        Don't aim to be understood by others before you understand yourself. People may never understand your intentions. You know them. They never understand why you do what you do or say what you say. You know the reasons. They may never understand why you treat them the way that you do,  or why you treat others the way that you do. You know why .  They may never understand the words that you say or the language your eyes speak. You understand these languages because you create them. They many never understand the strength it takes to be the way that you are. You know your weaknesses and your struggles, and you are the one who works so overcome them, so your strength means more to you than it could ever mean to anyone else. It really isn't about what they understand by just looking at you. It's about what they want to understand, and if they really want to, they won't assume. They will ask.

                                       With every year of your life, you will realize the following. You will know more people, but less people will know you. More people may exist in your life. Many people many know of you, but very few will really know you. Most people exist in your life to know what you're up to, rather than really care for you. You will be the friend of more people, but you will have fewer friends. But your friends will be like mirrors of your soul because , by speaking to them, you are speaking to yourself. You will speak less and listen more. Way more .  You will keep more secrets than the secrets you give. You will be more tolerant but less tolerated. You may own more things, but less things will own you. You will be the master of your emotions, and only you will be able to expose them. The older you get , the more of your childhood innocence you'll appreciate and retrieve, because children think of the result before they think of the consequences. Befor