442. Into the Sea

Once upon a time there were two men born out at sea,

And though began on different ships; Each stared down their destiny.

As sailors are want to do, by time, or just sore luck,

They fell into the churning sea when a raging storm had struck.

They both knew of the Isle nearby. All the sailors knew it well.

The Isle where they were headed, ‘fore their ships sank ‘neath the swell.

The Isle was where wealthy men built mansions out of gold,

And lived in luxury and peace; Ah, truly a sight to behold!

If only they could reach that place. They knew life would be grand.

They looked at the stars that night, and oriented themselves toward land.

One man had a mile to swim. The other: nine miles more;

Though both set off with conviction, to live and reach that shore.

The first man soon made it there, and lived until old age.

He wrote books, and sculpted art; And his story is now ‘all the rage’.

The second man: he drowned at sea, less than a mile from shore.

He’d fought hard and long for those nine miles,…likely harder then any man before.

Yet sailors tell his morose tale over drinks and platitudes;

Laughing at his misfortune with disparaging attitudes.

“What’s the meaning of success? What does it mean to fail?”,

One man asked as he sat down to converse o’er another round of ale.

“You may say the first man is clearly the success.

For he made it to the Isle, and lived in grandeur and excess.

Yet, the first man only swam one mile….so is success really the case?

Is success the result of outcomes, or is it more about the race?

For I wonder why the second man, who swam for eight miles more,

And didn’t give up for those nine miles, is a failure for not reaching shore?

He may have never reached the Isle. He may have died too young.

Howe’er he lived and fought far longer, then that man on societies’ tongue.

The man who swam the further…who fought until his last,…

Is he not the man who succeeded the most?

For in the end, all men’s ‘die are cast’…

Into the sea.”

K. Aldaya, 6/9/18

Picture: Artist:? http://picturefordesktop.com/stormy-sea-images-desktop-wallpaper/

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441. PTSD

The world is so busying telling me,

How I should feel and who I should be,

That it’s never, even once, stopped to think,

Whether I’m not exactly who I’m meant to be.

Maybe I will never be like you.

Maybe I’m not supposed to.

Maybe asking me to be something else,

Is the reason I can’t get through.

Maybe I would be okay,

If the world accepted what’s different.

Though, no matter how accepting it claims to be,

Some of us leave too much of an imprint.

We make a mess. Stand out too much.

Cops trail us and build up a case.

“It’s odd you were at the crime scene,

Even odder that your prints were all over the place!

Guilty by association, my child.

You’re guilty for showing-up: time and again.

You’re a victim, but perhaps an accomplice as well.

Did you not know it would drive you insane?

Now you are just as responsible.

Only criminals return to the crime!

You could have been normal…like us,

Instead, you’ve wasted this courts precious time.”

Yet, if we may speak to this court, sir.

We feel guilty and shameful each day,…

That we haven’t moved on…couldn’t move on…

And fell down, and apart, and astray.

We didn’t know how. We still don’t know now,

How to escape from that place,

Though if we could one day do so,

As you’ve stated, we’ve already left our trace;

A trace of guilt. A trace of our crimes,…

Of guilt by association.

No matter what we may say to these crimes,

The world will ne’er forgive the implication.

The implication that we are criminals.

That not being like you. Not living like you,

Is a bloody-bed of our own making;

For there’s only acceptance for crimes you live through,

But ones which stay, fester, and remain,

Which turn us wretched, and drive us insane,

Are the ones which society won’t accept.

And refuse to consider,…o’erlooking the brain.

Yes, the world is so busy telling me,

How I should feel and who I should be,

Yet has it ever wondered why we’re not free,

To be who life has made us to be?

No, I am not like you or them,

And no, I will never be in the end;

Though just because I am different,

Must I be rejected ’til the end?

Placed up on trial again, and again to defend…

Why I am the why I am?

I’m a lifetime of sounds and sights you can’t see.

Yet, men like to spurn what they don’t understand,

And charge for the crime of PTSD.

K. Aldaya, 5/23/18

440. Presence

We reach out for purpose,

Cutting through time like a knife.

Surveying each step with elation,

As if God’s creating life.

Are we more than rotting thoughts,

And orbiting electrons in atoms?

If I stand still or take one more step,

Will it really change any outcomes?

I want to believe in more than this.

In more than my petty musings.

Yet, despite my wish for my words to remain,

I can’t cease their death by refusing.

If I write, or walk, or take a step,

Or if I choose to protest.

There will still be something there to lose,

Whether idle or over-obsessed.

So, I reach out for purpose,

Whether it cuts me in it’s course;

For despite my ruminations,

Presence is an unstoppable force.

K. Aldaya, 5/22/18

Picture: Original Source Unknown; http://keywordsuggest.org/gallery/129704.html

436. “We”

We work in the shadows with an air of civility,

Dropping the pants of a world undisclosed;

Where eyes vilify the skirted and clothed,

For breeding the sins of the overexposed.

We move softly in the shadows eclipsed by “the unsaid”.

With the weight of morality on our backs.

We amend with checks and our very souls,

As we drift namelessly, and fall through the cracks.

We’re the shame and mortification of being alive.

Our breasts, and sex, are man’s nature denied.

Shunned from the sun and logical discourse;

The raw…the real…the gospel lost inside…

Mirrors heedless of reflection.

K. Aldaya, 4/13/18

Picture: http://www.harbus.org/2018/what-women-want/

434. Creation

7554e7e94b9dfa559fbb8602cde236df

Place your feet and ripple out into the universe,

Crafting new waves through space which disperse…

Reverberations of existence, and worlds beyond,

The span of human thought and vision.

Utter in mere mortal words…in your tongues, resonate;

Through the endless ocean which time creates.

Drift distantly…afar from transient flesh and bone.

Pervade and imprint thoughts into life.

K. Aldaya, 4/8/18

Picture: http://www.freehdimages.in/wallpaper/desktop-real-images-of-the-planet-saturn-download/

418. Mortal Paths

Another night ‘lone I lie,

And drift the vast path of thought.

Oh, how many years wasted?

Wandering endlessly…

Though, always onward led?

Led unto my own demise;

A maze of my own making.

What a waste of life…of time:

So precious…so finite…

Squandered in verse and rhyme.

I am nothing. Never was.

Mortality haunts my brain.

For I know not where to start,

Nor how to find the worth,

In the pleadings of heart.

Will anyone remember?

Or will everyone forget?

This mortal realm where I walked,…

On paths without ending;

Where all alone I talked…

To you.

“Hello”………………………………………………………….”Goodbye”.

K. Aldaya, 11/24/17

Picture: https://www.shutterstock.com/video/clip-9726293-stock-footage-handwriting-a-letter-by-candle-light.html

414. You Do Not Have to Die

I didn’t want to die when I swallowed all those pills.

I didn’t want to die when I climbed those lofty hills.

I didn’t want to die when I tied that rope on tight.

I didn’t want to die when I climbed that towers’ height.

I didn’t want to die when I loaded that old gun.

I didn’t want to die, yet what is done, is done.

I swallowed all those pills, and climbed those lofty hills;

And tied that rope on tight, and jumped off from that height.

And I loaded that old gun, for there wasn’t anyone,…to say:

“You do not have to die! It doesn’t have to be this way.”

I see you there with all those pills. I see you climbing hills.

I see that you purchased that rope and have no sense of hope.

I see that you are walking up the stairs to the top.

I see that gun, “Put it down. Put it down. Stop!”

You do not have to die, my friend.

This should not be your end.

I see you. I see you…and all that pain within you.

Please put down those pills, and walk beyond those hills.

Unknot that rope. There’s still hope. There’s still hope!

Lay down that gun, and in the morn we’ll watch the sun,…

As it peeks o’er the line ‘tween night and day,

We’ll sit and watch the start of another earthly day;

And laugh, and cry, and hope together,

Under the ethereal clouds we gather,…

And fashion into dreams.

K. Aldaya, 10/4/17

Picture: https://www.wallpaperflare.com/brown-rocky-mountain-during-sunrise-photo-rophaien-wallpaper-17362

413. Tempus Edax Rerum

tumblr_m08aubmthW1r3a6jho1_500

Time devours all things,

And life leads but to death,

Yet in your arms a lifetime’s…

Inhaled, in one breath.

Time devours all things,

And we are but one course,

Yet in one kiss, the soul…

Returns to it’s true source.

Time devours all things;

It’s flow is definite.

Ticking on forever…

So we make use of it.

Here.

Now.

Our love is infinite.

K. Aldaya, 8/30/17

Picture: Original Artist Unknown; http://weheartit.com/entry/24111142; http://littlepawz.tumblr.com/post/18572611002/love-is-the-enchanted-dawn-of-every-heart

412. In the Horizon

Pacific_Sunset_Pismo_Beach_California

Tangerine-seas quench my day-parched soul,

With the hope that maybe tomorrow,

Will find it new and whole.

As the sun descends and light fades out,

I inhale deeply of it’s sweetness,

And expunge any doubt.

For the night is coming…time to sleep,

And dream of new, better tomorrows,

Yet, first I’ll drink and weep,

For the yesterday which burns away…

In the horizon.

K. Aldaya, 8/25/17

Picture: http://wallpaperweb.org/wallpaper/nature/pacific-sunset-pismo-beach-california_40871.htm

 

408. Where is Hope?

Hope-May Spring went outside to sing,

And play among the flowers.

Her days were spent frolicking,

And dancing ‘way the hours,

In the sun.

One day she walked upon the stage,

To sing her song aloud.

She stepped bravely across the stage,

And sang out strong and proud:

Joyously.

Applause rang out through the room,

And Hope-May was o’erjoyed,

To have touched hearts within that room,

Her smile could not avoid…

Joining in.

Joy can’t last forever though,

And no story is so kind,

For as soon as it was time to go,

Her mother voiced her mind:

“Not the worst”.

Strangers praised her performance,

Yet her mother looked on sternly.

Her songs could never seem to dance,

Their way in mother’s heart to free…

Approval.

Through the years she heard no praise;

Nor laud. Nor compliment.

And soon she felt her mother’s gaze,

Was always there and sent…

Shivers down.

Ah, that voice was always there.

Always echoing: “Never enough!”,

Until the joy she used to share,

Sang out soft and gruff;

And empty.

Her joy, her mother ate it all;

Served with criticism and jeers.

Hope-May ate the meals all,

And swallowed down her tears…

In silence.

Hope-May Spring used to sing.

It’s said she sang quite well;

Though now she does not like to sing,

Nor does she ever tell…

Of her heart.

Though sometimes she dreams secretly,

Of those days so long ago,

When her heart was given joyously,

And hope could freely flow;

From her veins.

Hope-May Spring will sometimes sing,

And smile vacantly;

Though if you listen to her sing,

You’ll hear a sad and desperate plea:

“Where is Hope?”.

K. Aldaya, 7/13/17

402. Wildflowers

In the house upon the hill,

Where the wildflowers bloom;

There upon that hill,

Floats a murky gloom,

Stifling human will,

In the presence of swift doom.

In the house resides,

A world unto its’ own,

Where each man goes and hides,

Their every sigh and moan,

Away from judging eyes;

And that piercing undertone.

Can’t you hear it ringing?

Ringing, day and night…

Like a bee which keeps on stinging,

And causes lasting fright;

Through the air it’s winging,

Bearing pains no man can right.

Seek the house upon the hill,

Gray and worn with age,

For there upon that hill,

Is a safe and lasting cage,

Where you may hide until,

You lose the pain and outrage.

The inside walls are white and cold,

Lacking empathy or affection,

And once inside it takes a-hold;

Your soul feels deep rejection,…

Though as you will be told,

“It’s all for your own protection!”

In the house upon the hill,

The wildflowers are in bloom,

And are much too wild in will,

So confined to their room,

And told they must hold still,

Or growth will be their doom.

For flowers have a way,

Of drawing bees and such,

And when they bloom one day,

They draw abuse and touch;

The only other way,

Is to never live too much.

Hide in the house on the hill,

Where wildflowers bloom;

For there upon that hill,

They will lock you in your room,

And take away your free will,

‘Til the day you’re placed in the tomb.

K. Aldaya, 6/26/17

*For all those whose beauty was locked away in this life. RIP.

Picture: http://www.wildlifephotographytips.com/black-and-white-flower-photography.html

401. No One Likes an Ending

No one likes an ending.

No one likes to cry.

No one likes to hold the hand,

Of someone who will die.

No one likes an ending.

Endings are always sad.

No one likes to think about,

The time that one soul had.

No one likes an ending.

The unsurety. The change.

No one likes to say goodbye,

And face the new and strange.

No one likes an ending.

No one likes to cry.

No one likes to think about,

How all things must one day die…

–To make way for future birth.

Everyone likes beginnings.

Beginnings are always glad.

Everyone likes to laugh and love,

So please do not be sad.

No one likes an ending,

But endings clear the way,

For new things to bear,

The hopes of each yesterday…

–Ever onward, toward the future.

K. Aldaya, 6/24/17

Picture: http://www.grandparents.com/family-and-relationships/family-matters/teaching-grandfather-to-hug

392. Identity

160607092327-euro-2016-tournament-in-france-dark-horses-00000920-full-169

Who am I in this moment?

Well that depends on who you ask.

I am many different people,

Each with their own personal task.

How does one get anything done,

With so many different plans;

And so little time to work at them,

Before they will change hands?

Then off toward another goal,

Weaving through the field of mind,

Where players with their set positions,

Have their own goals in kind.

Tell me who I really am.

I bet you think you know!

Yet if you knew me at all,

You’d see I both come and go.

The game of life moves me,

Up and down the field.

In confusion getting nowhere,

Stuck eternally mid-field.

I see the goal right there,

And sometimes get quite near,

Only to find myself mid-field,

With another goal I fear.

Who am I in this moment?

I’m afraid that you will find.

I’m not the “one” you thought I was,

Rather “many”, in one mind.

K. Aldaya, 4/15/17

Picture: From CNN.com; http://edition.cnn.com/2016/06/11/football/euro-2016-switzerland-albania/

383. The Soul is a Symphony

sunny field

I wonder what people will say of me,

When I am finally gone?

Will they praise me for my honesty,

Or say that I was wrong?

Will they love my naked words,

Or loathe me as a whore?

Will they understand my words,

And why I always had to say more?

Will they say that I was sick,

Or plan and simply: pessimistic?

Will they think that’s all that made me tick?

That I was never optimistic?

After all is said and done,

I hope no one will ever say,

That I never cherished even one…

Earthly human day.

No one can help or change their path;

It is theirs to walk alone.

You’ll never understand that path;

The only path I’ve ever known.

Yet one thing I must make quite clear…

I crawled, lived, and fought;

And as much as I bore pain and fear,

Love is what I sought.

Beauty is more beautiful,

And happiness more divine,

When you know just how rare and wonderful,

It is to feel the sunshine.

To see flowers bloom each spring.

To watch children smile and glow,

And know that despite everything,

Love continues to nurture and grow.

I wonder what people will think of me,

When I am finally gone.

I hope they’ll realize how fully,

I felt and lived each dawn.

–For the soul is a symphony, not a song.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/17

Picture: https://w-dog.net/wallpaper/mood-girl-a-woman-hair-silhouette-loneliness-thought-meditation-of-mind-the-field-flower-flowers-flower-sunset-sun-night-background-wallpaper-widescreen-full-screen-widescreen-hd-wallpapers-background/id/348657/

 

377. Yin and Yang

thumb-1920-152076

I know you think I’m weak,

And those who “feel” are pitiful.

So I’ve often felt like a freak,

For simply being me.

Yet as I’ve grown older,

I’ve become much more aware,

That those whose hearts are colder,

Are much more pitiful.

A life lived on the path.

‘Tween pure bliss and despair,

May be a smoother path;

Though leads the soul nowhere.

Souls grow in sagacity,

Through the beauty and the pain.

Grow stronger on a rougher sea,

Or steep and winding road.

With ups and downs we learn,

What’s truly of worth.

With every dip and turn,

We learn to persevere.

Depth is seen as weakness,

And shallowness as divine.

Society praises emptiness…

As close to godliness.

Those who disagree: “Insane.”

“Their emotions are showing!”

“A symptom of a faulty brain,

Wandering on dangerous paths.”

I don’t care anymore what’s said,

I’d rather struggle and fight,

Ever braver in what lies ahead,

Then to fear being “too much”.

My soul is not a coward,

And my heart and mind fight on.

I do not fear love or discord,

They are borne in equal measure.

K. Aldaya, 12/19/16

Picture: By Mario Wibisono; https://wall.alphacoders.com/unregistered.php?id=624 https://wall.alphacoders.com/big.php?i=152076

375. The Noose

Once set into motion life continues unimpeded.

The bond of prophecy self-fulfilled,

Becomes the noose of the defeated.

giphy12345

You may struggle and the noose grow tighter: restricting breath…

Or calmly hold your hands to the line,

In-between desperation and death.

K. Aldaya, 11/26/16

Picture: Originally Posted on thedeadhasrisin.tumblr.com; http://giphy.com/gifs/sad-boy-depressed-wOKFDNYyjqfBK;

371. Inertia

12482098813_d4d73db61f_b

Nightmares are only reverse dreams,

And ghosts are merely shadows.

Memories are just vivid streams,

Of self-perceptioned scenes.

Dreams are only reverse nightmares,

And shadows are merely ghosts.

Memories are the eyes which stare,

Deep down into our souls.

Phantoms haunt, and memories hurt;

And nightmares destroy dreams….

While time ticks on and on: inert,

To what we tell ourselves.

K. Aldaya, 9/25/16

Picture: Scene Capture from “Pretty Little Liars”; http://www.afterellen.com/tv/209853-pretty-little-liars-recap-4-19-shadow-play/3

369. Ember

4-30

Here I am just like a child,

Again I feel the pain.

Our hearts are just too wild,

To be contained.

They feel too deep…

Feel too much;

They pull us to and fro.

Hearts recall, and with such…

Fervor and fire!

The past we wish to forget,

Yet our hearts beat to the echoes,

Of pasts filled with regret,

And pointless suffering.

Our hearts always remember,

And the body never forgets.

A persevering, igneous ember,

Left from the fires of youth.

K. Aldaya, 9/22/16

Picture: Originally posted on Tumblr by twerkingtothebaxterbuilding; https://giphy.com/gifs/fire-hand-flame-83QhSF6YdWGIM

367. Savage

barefoot-running-girl

I am a savage.

I remember my days in the jungle.

The feel of mud ‘tween my toes.

The rush of adrenaline,

From head to toe.

Blood raging to win.

I am a savage.

I remember my nights under the moon.

The feel of winds blowing over,

The heavy lids of the earth,

Falling to cover.

In death is rebirth.

I am a savage.

I remember my days on the Earth.

The feel of dust and thirst.

The yearning to drink and feast.

Devoured or nursed.

Nothing but a beast.

K. Aldaya, 9/18/16

Picture: Original Source Unknown; http://sscinnovate.blogspot.com/2013/06/review-barefoot-minimalist-and-forefoot.html

337. Just So You Know

B_VmGxjXEAA9MaI

Just so you know, my life matters too.

I may not be rich or know high people,

Yet I think I should have the chance to do,

Whatever I want to.

Just so you know, my life matters as well.

I may not have some great job or position,

Yet I think I should have the chance to tell…

You, to go to hell.

Just so you know my life matters also.

I may not be like or think like you,

Yet I’m not going to kowtow.

You’re not my king you know!

Just so you know, my life matters too.

I may be poor and no one special,

Yet I want to be someone who,

Gets to live life too.

K. Aldaya, 3/9/16

Picture: Street Art on Twitter; https://twitter.com/googlestreetart/status/573476917074116608

313. Eternal Light

underwater-sunlight-takau99

The light streams down,

And reaches out to me,

Like the hand of a God,

Painting destiny.

Oh, what I would do,

To reach and clasp that light!

The touch of heaven on skin:

Warm and ember-bright.

If only I had wings,

I’d fly into the sky,

To destiny, immortality,

On an etheric lullaby.

The light shines down,

And reaches out to me,

And though I sink, I sing,

And it ripples,…into eternity.

K. Aldaya, 7/24/15

Picture: takau99: https://www.flickr.com/photos/thailandbeach/; http://fineartamerica.com/featured/underwater-sunlight-takau99.html

304. Lunatic Hours

Red Clock Eyes Wallpaper

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Listen up and listen quick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

He’s a raving lunatic.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Life’s a crazy horror-flick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Lock the door with a *click*.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Choices: Which will you pick?

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Every choice will make you sick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Skin is thin and blood is thick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

You want to know his little trick?

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Slit your wrists and make it quick.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Death, it hates a lunatic.

Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic.

Lunatics are pretty slick.

Tic. Tic. Tic.

Death can’t kill a lunatic.

Tic. Tic.

‘Cause they’re already dead…

Tic.

K. Aldaya, 5/9/15

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://www.wallpaperseries.com/girls/red-clock-eyes-wallpaper.html

273. Life is an Abuser

woman in depression

Life is an abuser,

And I, his unwilling victim.

Everyone tells me I’m wrong.

I should give in,

And go along.

Life is an abuser.

He hurts me all the time.

Everyone tells me to like it.

I should enjoy,

And commit.

Life is an abuser,

And I should love my abuser.

Everyone says I have to,

If I want love,

And acceptance too.

Life is an abuser,

He tells me I’m ungrateful,

And guilts me into staying,

And taking it,….

And praying.

Life is an abuser.

I sit in the corner and chant….

It’s okay….okay….okay….okay…,

But don’t believe it….

Not today.

Life is an abuser.

I tire of being his toy.

He loves to mess with my head.

It hurts so much,

I wish I were dead.

Life is an abuser,

And I, his unwilling victim.

Everyone tells me it’s okay,

But it is not…….NO…..Not today!

K. Aldaya,  6/16/14

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://www.kuramamagazine.com/images/suicidal%20girl.jpg

252. It’s Okay

Sunny-day1

It’s okay not to be happy.

It’s okay, my child.

Tomorrow the sun will rise again,

And hearts will again run wild;

Beating up and down the streets.

Flowing through the hours,

O’er-rushing with dreams of cakes and sweets,

And fields of endless flowers.

So it’s okay to cry and be sad.

It’s okay, my child.

Tomorrow the sun will rise again,

And yes, you will have smiled!

K. Aldaya, 9/4/13

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://extremelongevity.net/wp-content/uploads/Sunny-day1.jpg

247. Soar Higher

tiny_dancer_by_insanelaurenjane-d5tqlbr

Into the world my child, she flies…,

Away and soars; but I am scared.

Will she be safe and always wise?

Did I teach her everything,

She needs to touch the skies?

And can I trust the world which I’ve never trusted?

To care for and protect one of my dearest treasures?

World of people through whose acts I am disgusted.

Who poisoned my heart until it broke and rusted.

Yet even I cannot protect,

Her, or him, or I from this life.

Control: an illusion’s inject,

So life we do not from the start reject.

If we thought about how each moment is taken,….

Stolen right in front of our eyes: so we close them;

We’d go crazy or mad, and sickness awaken.

So we say:  “Reasons are not godforsaken!”.

Whether there’s meaning to it all,

I know not and I dare not say.

I only know what’s to fear therewithal.

I pray she’ll be able to fly when in fall!

—-praying:  “Don’t be like me…., Please don’t end up like me at all!”

K. Aldaya, 8/6/13

Picture: “Tiny Dancer” by insanelaurenjane at Deviant Art; http://www.deviantart.com/art/Tiny-Dancer-352280439

245. Why Do I Want to Live?

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Why do I want to live when life has no point?

Why do I want to live when all I do is disappoint?

Why do I want to live when death is the only goal?

Why do I want to live when I’m not even sure I have a soul?

Why do I want to live?

I will tell you why.

Because I exist and it’s all that I know.

Because I don’t want to lie…..

Silenced forever in a grave when I die.

Why do I want to live when I’ll die anyway someday?

Because I’m afraid and hope to be stronger one day;

So when death greets me I’ll smile and say,

“I’m ready to be on my way!”

K. Aldaya, 7/25/13

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://favim.com/image/464660/

205. Freedom to Fall

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Years ago I wrote…

Wrote of emptiness;

And though I do not quote,

I find hence no progress.

Not that I have or not,

Still carried on in same,

I only know that I cannot,

Continue to stay-on the same.

I laugh at you,

You laugh at me,

Consummating not, with felicity.

I love, am loved I,

As may be merely dreamed,

By mortals daft as I,

Under the skies the ancients’ streamed.

I know and know not,

How to seek out my own,

How to love when I am not,

Clasp strength when I’m alone.

Fear holds me in,

And comfort holds me out,

And my face in the mirror’s but a shell of self-doubt.

I am but a love and a hope,

For the world of tomorrow,

And conquests I elope,

As mine in joy and sorrow.

I may be not, and I may be all,

But the beauty comes,

In the freedom to fall.

K. Aldaya, 12/10/06

Picture:  “Top of the World” by Emerald-Depths (Danielle) on Deviant Art: http://emerald-depths.deviantart.com/; http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/217/5/5/top_of_the_world_by_emerald_depths-d59vdo6.png

200. A New Day

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The drawn-out night has met its’ end,

And the daylight burns its’ memory.

With every moment black descends,

Into shadows and fantasy.

The dawn is here,

The sun is near,

To basking all the earth and sea.

We walk along our lonely roads,

The roads set out for us.

As rays parade the rocks and stones,

The shadows fade from us.

We glance behind.

Hear: “No more rewind!”,

And turn to greet our destinies.

K. Aldaya, 6/20/06

Pictures: Photographer Unknown; http://www.fotothing.com/photos/ebd/ebd556d700b9e5c075c476bb15b5ecdb.jpg

197. Masters of Fate

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Fate controls our destiny’s,

And destiny’s our truths,

But never will it e’er control,

The worth of men or dynasties!

Mind’s create our raging thoughts,

And thoughts our engagements,

And engagements our fates,

Of squandered ‘remembers’ and ‘forgots’.

Emotions control our wants,

And wants our emotions,

But fate thwarts everything,

And controls and taunts.

Control, controls our fate,

And fate our destiny’s,

And destiny’s our truths-in-head,

And the wants within the head,

To emotionally create fate.

Ah, why men say, “We choose our fate!”.

K. Aldaya, 05/08/06

Picture:  Artist Unknown; http://www.topnews.in/health/music-brain-hemispheres-sheds-light-schizophrenia-215694

72. A Random Thought

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I often feel a deep connection with railroad tracks. I see my life as those abandoned railroad tracks through the forest which I used to walk on to school everyday. Behind me the track stretches beyond a road and continues on with no point of origin in sight or reach; a path once traveled, holding perilous and unknown truths, which have been lost to haunted memories. The path endlessly sprawling before my eyes is unchangingly as lonely, empty, and deserted as the track I’ve traveled. Each new step leads toward an empty attempt at finding a purpose which doesn’t have existence here. Each step leading to one more step. Each track to more track. More empty, lonely, cold-rusted steel track. No point of origin. No point of destination, but that final one in which all tracks eventually lead; whether this track or the next step, or the next, or the next ten million. The train passed long ago and I am left here forever in its’ abandoned shadow.

K. Aldaya

Picture: “Foggy Morning Train Tracks to Indian Land NC” by G.H. Holt: https://www.flickr.com/photos/ghholt/; http://www.flickriver.com/photos/ghholt/popular-interesting/

55. Back and Forth Living

Back and forth. Back and forth.

The winds hit the trees;

Winds from the North,

More than a breeze.

Tiny clouds. Tiny clouds.

Are all that is there.

Tiny sky shrouds,

Winded near bare.

Blue skies. Blue skies.

Allow for sun’s warm to glorify,

The planets’ form.

Today now. Today now.

This place seems happy,

‘Gods’ great endow,

To you and to me.

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A moment. A moment.

Is all it can bring.

All sin descends,

My heart can’t sing.

Reality. Reality.

Returns here once more.

New gravity.

I hit the floor.

K. Aldaya, 3/22/04

Picture: “Zero Gravity Series” by Nikolay Tikhomirov; http://www.123inspiration.com/zero-gravity-surreal-photos-of-women-floating-by-nikolay-tikhomirov/