Golden.
A monumental time
For a monumental age.
No celebratory bang.
Not one for playing charades.
Just wrapped in love
Amongst the days delight.
Gratitude ever flowing
As my inner light shines bright.
No need to utter words
Because my actions speak loud.
The reflection I see daily
Is one that I am proud.
50 years of life
With twists and turns
And lessons learned.
Ready for what the Universe unfolds before me now.
Golden.
49 trips around the sun to bask in the light and glow.
Grateful for every twist and turn,
For every up and down,
For every yes and no
That made me who I am.
49 trips around the sun
To reflect on life’s victories
That I have won.
Hopeful for more years underneath the sun,
To shine my light
Until my work is done.
Heartbeat is fading.
Almost non existent
As my soul is nearly depleted.
No expectations of humanity,
And devoid of all care.
What to do in a world of uncertainty?
What to do when the love is gone?
Feels like I’m drowning,
And I can’t come up for air.
My feelings are my own.
No longer buried deep inside.
Bitterness has festered,
Anger has taken over.
I feel numb.
Will my heartbeat live again?
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
Will I ever believe in Hope again?
I want to live like I’ve never lived.
No wasted moments.
No suspension of time.
I want to soar freely to higher heights,
And from the clouds I’ll emerge,
As I greet the sun on my way to heaven.
With a renewed heart, I feel love,
To be able to move with no fears, as I’ve left them behind.
Guided by a power like no other,
I can fly far beyond the moon.
The sky’s the limit.
And I’ll just keep going as if the sky is all mine.
Fly to a higher height
That extends beyond the moon.
Travel beyond space and time,
To live amongst the stars.
A feeling within the heart and soul,
That only sunrays can expose.
Upon a morning smile,
Love’s aurra reigns supreme.
Love.
An ever flowing sea for one to drown in eternally.
Love.
A friend of a higher power
That wraps it’s arms around you with an embrace of the day’s delight.
Love.
When you have it,
Hold it tight.
Cherish what is yours,
Which is the Love bestowed upon you.
Revel in tears of joy,
And remember the feeling.
May you be immersed in Love today.
And may Love forever in your heart remain.
What is life to cold hands and an empty heart?
A meaningless nothingness.
A reflection of despair.
No humanity seen.
No love.
No care.
Mere ashes of hope gone dry.
Mere tears from when one cried.
No measure of value for bodies.
None for the dead nor alive.
When darkness burries the sun,
And the world is heavy upon soft shoulders,
Heavy is the load that is carried,
And despair is the emotion that is felt.
One can become blinded by the unknown,
And stricken down by fear.
Possibilities remain at a distance,
As if these are merely thoughts in the wind.
Unclarity has sunken in.
Then along comes the sun.
Love.
Love loves me.
Love believes in me.
Love’s light adorns me.
I hear Love’s voice, and I can see once again.
Love never let’s me suffer,
And Love never let’s me fail.
In my hour of sorrow, it’s Love’s faith, Love’s love, that prevails.
Faith is restored,
And one is guided by your light.
Onward to a righteous path,
I will know no wrong,
Because the Love you possess is oh, so right.
Photo Credit: myquietfire.com NYC
Never imagined I’d see yesterday through tomorrow’s eyes.
Hope now blinded once again by the truth,
Of an uncertainty in life that is all too real.
Living in a world full of broken hearts, promises, and paths.
Where is my sunshine and rainbow?
Where is my shovel to dig myself out of this hell of despair and fear?
Where is the train to Anyplace other than here?
What do you do when your heart dries out?
When there’s no blood left to shed?
When the beauty of bodies float away like dust?
When all you can feel is despair?
So many days and nights have my heart cried out,
To hollow ears who hear me not.
Hollow ears don’t hear my screams in the night.
Hollow ears know not my soul’s twists and turns.
And blind eyes don’t see my bloodshed,
When murderous hands perform the devil’s deeds.
So, what do you do when your heart cries out?
When there’s no one who seems to care?
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Aren't songs of grief lullabies to the lost?
La poesía es la casa del ser.
as opposed to a “not thinking chitalia”
A storyteller with a poetic heart
The Poetry of Emotion
Seeking Solace in the Horizon & Beyond
FOR A NEW TOMORROW
My Quiet Fire In NYC 