“As I Stand Here, Reflecting”

If you think you know me

Let me assure you—

You do not

You only know the projection

Of a role I like to play—

Someone I created to be some version,

Of a girl who might have been me

You think you know me

But have you had intimate conversation

With my soul?

Have you peeked inside my mind,

And unfurled the tapestry

Of my secrets?

You claim to know me

But I don’t even know me

Every now and then I get to see her

In my dreams—the girl I might actually be

And she is beautiful

She doesn’t know my world,

And so she is free of its restraints

Her home is between one dream and the next

And she speaks to me only when I’m ready to listen

Unlike me, she is not an illusion

She is the manifestation of who I hope to become

While I am shards of glass,

Still learning to piece myself together

She is the mirror: whole and far from broken

I look at her and I see my potential

What is Beauty, Anyway?

“They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces,
And husband nature’s riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself, it only live and die…”

William Shakespeare
“Sonnet 94”

To Strike A Chord

To strike a chord in the heart strings of those who seek beauty and truth, to make an unsuspecting reader smile, to pave a new wave of thought, to connect with the masses, the unseen and unheard, to show the silent that they have a voice, to merge fantasy and reality in such a way that no distinctions can be made between them, to erase all boundaries holding back the imagination, to captivate a reader in such a way that he begins to think of himself as a character, to share experiences and experience my share of things, to record adventures and make unlikely characters heroes, and to start a conversation among those who otherwise would have never met…this is what I hope to accomplish through my writing.

“A Cup of Tea”

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A tale to take you

to distant places

places where you

can be things you

never thought to be

a story to transport you

over seas and through mountains

bridging the gap

between the real and

not-so-real. Where else

can you find people

who understand

without you having to tell them

what you mean?

an adventure to captivate

the attentions of your

imagination. just you, a book

and a cup of tea

“Roses”

Here lie the roses by the sea

Drowned in the salt of memory

Forgotten, lost, their color gone

Now dim, though once they brightly shone

They tell a tale of boundless woe

Their stems are poisoned, have ceased to grow

The pink of promise, washed away

Their yellow tint now deadened gray

The reds have bled what red they had

The whites, no longer pure, but sad

The salt of oceans stings their pain

And leaves behind a lasting stain

Their petals shrivel up in fear

And beauty hides when love is near

Just as the heaving ship will sink

So too do these sick roses drink

Where even sunlight cannot reach

Finding the surface hard to breach

Neglected in a moment’s span

Tossed by a cruel and eager hand

Here lie the roses by the sea

Where hasty judgment set them free

Drowned in the salt of memory

Here lie the roses, in the sea