Swallowed under the waves
created by your deepest regrets,
you never went up for a single breath.
Tsunamis emerged from the worst parts of you,
shattering down towns nearby you.
The streets flooded with your tears,
tears made from the worst of your fears.
The bottom was dark, the waves restless,
and your shoulders sagged from an invisible weight.
You chose one day to break the surface.
Little by little, day by day, you went up
to feel the sun kiss your cheeks,
until it unfurled your toes
and directed your feet to the nearest shore.
Opening your eyes to the chaos that’d swept by,
you walked timidly to the nearest building
and fixed the first jagged crevice on the wall.
Though the waves called back for you,
pursuing you with the strongest of tides
to pull you under, you continued on
to mend the patches of the damaged towns
and rebuild a new foundation for yourself.
----

You’re outside, deep within the vast pine forest.
The earthy aroma is unmistakably there
And you can feel the ground’s texture through the soles of your shoes.
You run through the woods feeling like the carefree child you were years ago.
You finally stop in your tracks, breathing in the pine needle scent.
You look up and come eye to eye with the starry night.
A thick blanket covering the universe with tiny specks of twinkling light scattered across it.
Then there’s the moon who’s equally bright and equally as beautiful among his star companions. 
You notice how when the moon isn’t at his fullest light or greatest shape, the stars are always there waiting on him.
It doesn’t matter how many nights it takes for the moon to look his best in all his entirety,
The stars will still be there and until he does, they’ll still be there afterwards.
Now you stare in awe at what beauty the world provides us.

Humor.
Different for everyone but all similar in one thing,
It brings a smile out of you.
A pearly white tooth smile or even a tiny grin that shows your dimples. 
Humor.
It keeps the atmosphere light and bubbly.
With grandpa’s corny stories of when he was your age,
Your little brother chiming in with his own dorkiness,
And you peek up and see your mother quirk her lips up into that gorgeous smile she doesn’t let out much. 
Humor. 
The light you use to brighten up a dark room.
To elicit happiness from a bad day. 
Humor.
Something we can use now more than ever.
 

One heavenly lit bonfire,
The flames crackling with desire.
Trees shrouded around it like a nest,
Noble firs of the northwest.
Sticks scattered across the forest floor.
No entrance to this sacred place, not even an opened door.
But there was one tiny mouse
Who wears no blouse,
But prefers the feathers of a black grouse. 
She wears them nestled upon her hair
And they go every which way due to the air.
She dances all night around the bonfire
And only until sunrise hits will she retire.
This piece of land is her own 
Her magnificent throne.

To push forward or stay right where I am.
Right where I am nothing is amiss but nothing will change either.
Goals are attainable but not without effort put forth to achieve them.
Time is tricky but patience plays a big role.
My story doesn't end here nor anytime soon.
I get what I settle for and I’m not quite satisfied yet with where I’m at.
The choice to get up everyday and keep going at it,
The dedication,
The effort, 
The will to keep moving is a choice up to me and applies to you as well.
So what’s it going to be today? 
Start today and you’ll be one step closer in the long run.

 

I like how the wind whispers into my ears
As I gallop through meadows and onto the rough town sidewalks.
Every step,
One after the other.
The knot that ties all my worries, stress, and anxiety,
They slowly unravel as I speed forward.
I like how it’s just me and the outside world
Even though I ‘ve ran through town multiple times
That I can now memorize every crevice and crack on the sidewalks,
I will never get bored of the thrill the rush gives me.
The freedom to explore 
The vast territory around me.
I will never get enough of it.

 

Many people express themselves through music,
Creating benevolent tunes so soothing to the ears till we feel every aspect of their well-being, their emotions.
Others swirl their tinted wooden brushes onto blank canvases.
Each brushing stroke, an effort made towards a bigger picture.
I find myself expressing my thoughts through the simplicity of writing. 
Writing doesn’t need to be a complicated structure, it can be a few words jotted down and done. 
I’m grateful for the power and ease writing brings to me. 
Whether a pencil is in use or a keyboard,
I let my fingers work away and my mind unleashed,
Expressing my thoughts into words that couldn’t be spoken past my lips.

 

What does the wind see as it sifts through the sky?
Does it see ongoing soccer games?
Two rivaling teams battling their heart and soul out under the game they love.
The wind whipping away the sweat drizzling down their necks,
urging for the fight to commence.
Do the breezes of the wind work their power to soar kites higher
to amuse young-ins and entertain their imaginations?
Can the wind hear and pick up secrets formed from opened-mouths?
Picking up the tee-hees and giggles of girls whispering under the oak tree. 
Perhaps the wind can also see our struggles.
Our sadness transforming into hints of rage that keep growing by the second.
The wind able to see your pent-up frustration and starts to bend the air towards your way,
Cooling the prickling hot tears off your face.
Or suppose the wind minds it’s own business,
whistling through the atmosphere and enjoying it’s travels. 

 

The thumping of the basketball going down the court.
The crowd near silent, anticipating the next move.
Our team in desperate need of a basket.
That basket ensures our win,
Our reward.
Only enemies challenging us is the clock ticking to a mere few seconds,
And the ones on the court.
Our team makes swift eye contact.
Glances between each other.
We know what we need, what we want, and what we got to do to secure it.
Our feet move before our minds can process what’s to happen.
Every second of us hesitating will do us no good.
We maneuver around the defense
Poking, prodding, searching for that loophole 
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the weak spot
And so does our point guard.
Just like in practice, I back-cut around the player on me
The basketball already thrown towards my awaiting hands.
I grasped the basketball and whip around to put it up in the basket.

She had the brightest of complexions,
Bathed among the wisps of morning kindle,
The ignition of intense light sought out upon the vivid sky.
From the outside, she was golden in every way,
Looking oh so perfect amidst the clouds.
For she was the sun,
Standing proudly above.

He sat back in the shadows,
Observing her closely.
He could see the great toll it took to uphold her hardships,
To blaze the brightest out of everyone.
But her color, the fullest at day
Was duller toward night.
So the moon sat up to his fullest height
And paraded toward the sun.
Without words exchanged,
The sun knew the purpose of the moon’s descent,
A silent understanding between the two.
She steadily retreated back, but not before she shimmered bright one last time,
Directing her gratitude at the moon.
She closed her eyes to rest
And the moon called out to his star companions.