Legacy

What will you leave behind?
What will people remember you for?
What moments do you want people to remember you by?
Are you happy of where you are now? Or are you working towards something that will help you achieve your goals in the future?
What can you do to get to where you want to be? –To be someone that others will look-up to?
When you see your own reflection, what/who do you see?
–Do you see someone who will do anything to get to where they want to be? A fighter who will face any obstacle, trials, and hindrance along the path less traveled?
–Do you see someone who is unsure of where to go. . . indecisive, apprehensive, unmotivated to explore?
–Do you see the same person that once stood in the same place, oblivious of tomorrow, carefree, relentless to be who they want to be. . guided by the ones whose hands are calloused from scraping every minute of every hour just so you could survive another day?
Who will remember you once you’ve gone away?
Who will remember your smile, your laughter, the way you look, the way you move?
Who will be there to stand beside your remnants, to clean your eternal bed?
When are you going to set your foot-print on unknown territory?
When are you going to make this day last longer as to fill more sand in the hour glass?
Why do you matter?
Why do you live?
How are you going to live a better life than yesterday?
Like diamonds, do you wish your history to last forever?
What are you hungry for?
What will be your last words?
What . . .will you. . . leave behind?

Bubble*POP!*gum

People come and go–like the hours of a day, one moment they’re there, bright and warm.. the next, they’re gone, dark and cold. Moments pass. . . each minute wasted by nostalgia.
It’s true what they say. . .nothing is everlasting.
People invest their time and energy in friendships they thought would stand against distance and inevitable flow of change. Like the hustling and bustling corners of Wall Street, the value of friendships are often times traded with diminishing connections for other relationships that are thought to be better. . . temporarily. . . like a new gum . . until the flavor subsides. . . only concoction of rubber and plastic remain–dry and tough making jaws locked. Relationships come and go–chewing gum are easily disposed of as it is quickly chewed. . . each bite takes away the sweetness. . . each moment spent feels the constant duty to entertain each other. . . the more effort it takes, the less thrilling it becomes . . . yet you continue to chew on that flavor-less gum . . . until you feel it’s no longer satisfactory. . . then a new one comes. . . like time, the cycle never ends.

Foolish heart.

Is it silly of me that I still have your hand-written notes?
Words seem to peel off the page as I read each line–outlines of each stroke are left behind.
I look at it, positioning myself to your state of mind–imagining the thoughts going through your head as you write. As I read more, I get a sense of who you are; each spacing between words, the shape of each vowels, the bullets, lines, bold forms, all are hints of your mannerisms.
I wonder how you are now.
I wonder if your writing is still the same.
I wonder if you still look at me the same.
Perhaps if I graze my fingers on each dents left by the pressure of the pen, I’ll feel your presence. I wonder what comes to your mind when you write my name down–with the same hands that wrote these notes–the same hands that I have yet to hold.
Is it silly of me that i still have you– written in my heart?
–Or is it silly of me to have these thoughts that linger, like a ghost phasing through your walls–only a presence, you feel. . . cold.
You don’t see me, like how I see you.
You don’t feel the same way I feel for you.
These things. . . I guess are silly.

Why are you here?

I don’t know why I’m here.
–So, why are you here?
You were brought upon this unfair world.
You were either planned or not.
Perhaps you’re the only child or think you feel like thee only child–left alone.
You grew up with aspirations, dreams, wants, pretentious declarations.
Innocence soon diminishes, you become more distant–only thinking about tomorrow.
You wonder how things happen and why things happen.
You wonder about your existence.
You wonder about your purpose.
You wonder about life.
What are your passions?
What do you love? Who do you love? How do you love? Where is love?
Things happen. Things and people come and go.
You look back, you peak what will be — you rarely live in the moment.
–So, why are you here?

A spell upon a star

In the darkness I slowly mutter an incantation from the deepest sorrows.
Hidden energies that were once dormant, now breaks free from silence.
I chant repeatedly while looking at the stars, words commanding the universe to listen.
Eyes closed. Lips moving. Chest up. Slowly breathing.
Arms wide open, chains are breaking.
Spirits unleashing, souls awakening.
Eyes now open, stars are falling.