The Ugly Pebble

my mind lay heavy over coffee and blankets between moonlight and morning between dreams and controls i lie still in stillness blank in canvas unwritten in this moment soft monochrome void of movement radiating energy

[10.6.16]

...it saddens me when some adults seem to have lost the very thing we find so abundant as children. imagination is indeed the muscle of the soul and just like any muscle, the more you work it, the stronger it becomes. it’s not enough just to have a point of view, an opinion… how do you see? how do you perceive? do you use your own imagination or mirror someone else’s? if you hadn’t a guideline or muse to shape your perceptions, what would you imagine and bring to reality? if no one were watching, who would you be? is this person the same person you are now?

are you everything you could be?

[untitled thoughts]

we, flickering lights standing tall to make waves linger as loud as silence

[haiku]

there’s no place like home quiet corners of yesterday, voices still echo, as if time sound memory smell together stopped to beckon attention to beckon heartstrings and tears and warmth and yesterday.

[milo]

because she found inspiration in the little things

highs from the lows

because her favorite pastime was thinking

in silence

to challenge her inner self

because she feels the wind whisper and hears the eyes behind which are souls

because she knows her life is for the sake of becoming

becoming the only one of her that ever is to be

[becoming]

for the power to choose, for the right to become ourselves.

for the tenacity to seek, for the pleasure to find a life worth living.

for the discipline to follow through, for the character to keep us from falling.

for the wisdom to choose, for the honor to become ourselves.

[thought]

how much do we see, when we see? name, skin, glow, gate, nationality, stature, smile. mood, perspective, words unspoken, happy, broken. between lines or beyond? between our thoughts or only within?

[chi]

i’d like to balance you

with the tips of my fingers

and hold you

with the tip of my tongue

for aren’t words more powerful

than sticks, stones

and willpower much stronger

than bone

[untitled no.2]

for horrors will come

and daylight and dreams

but silence will creep

making cracks in the seams

and we’ll drown like the rest of ‘em

deep down in the sea

unfound like the rest of ‘em

for whom salt water is now tea

[the secret of silence]

painful

necessities

flowing

from weeping willow-ed

branches

and chaotic vines

rose beds

thick of thorns

we cut and process

in order to understand

what it is that we hold

in our naked

bare hands

which are careful

not to open too wildly

for fear

of what was or 

what may be

but maybe,

maybe if we could just

stand

motionless

still

calm

in the moment

we would not fear

because in the moment

there is no fear

there is no thought

of anything

except

what is now.

[let love grow]

we build invisible walls

lines

moats

to protect our hearts

minds

lives

from all which has hurt us before

and for that which takes a lifetime to build

there is but one love in life

for whom we tear it all down

for whom we are open

and for whom we trust

to be our wall

to be our friend

to protect our name

against all odds

and against all foes.

[the great wall]

my dearest beecee,

tonight marks six years and i’ve still no words and no description to explain how any of this feels how everytime i try not to think on it the frustration returns the guilt and the never understanding why.

i love you always.

rito

[rest in peace]