Of Mundane Things and Sweet Nothings

 For life is about mundane things that we turn into sweet nothings.

Memoirs of Rainy Days

 There is something beautiful after the rain.

Maybe the scent...

The petrichor that lingers after the waters from heaven touched the earth.

Or maybe the colors...

The blue and gray that defies the yellow.

Or maybe those little drops...

That still holding on to something,

 Defying the fall...

Until they just become mist, 

Never touching the ground.

Captured in Motion

But Life moves in gentle tides,
Drifting forward then pulling back again.
Time keeps its quiet rhythm,
Never slowing, never waiting.

The Altar Where No One Waited

 But I have a secret

That's keeping me still.

I was always dancing with my demon,

I created to protect me.

And all the while 

The waltz was reverent,

candlelit and quiet,

Beautiful I suggest.

I did not feel the hours bleeding out,

Did not hear time rattling its chains.

It fed on hours,

It drank my days dry.

The walls consecrated for my safety,

Learned how to whisper my name.

Stone by stone, 

I called protection,

Became a chamber of absence,

An empty fortress,

A cold sanctuary 

Preserving my loneliness.

There were moments

I mistook it for peace,

And called it happiness.

But that peace was only silence,

Wearing a halo.

For no one stays long enough

To leave a sound behind.

Because no one else waited for me,

At the altar.

And everytime happiness knocks on the door,

My demon would answer first.

Offering me bargains I could never afford.

Proposing contracts written in ash,

Prices etched in blood.

So I sold my happiness again and again.

For debts I never finished paying,

Because I owned nothing.

So all the love I could not receive

Was tithed for protection.

A god I invented

To survive my prayers.

For solace I always thought 

I needed.

Like a saint offering 

Her faith for redemption.

And so I cried to the heavens

For deliverance.

But settled instead

For feigned sympathy.

I embraced artificial comfort,

False light, opiate tranquility.

To only found relief

In mid-spiral, mid-curse.

And so still I have a secret

That's keeping me still.

I am still dancing with my demon,

I created to protect me.

 But there are Times when the answer

 just come right on time... 

That's a bit too much to call it a coincidence. 

And Too exact not to think of it as a miracle. 

But  if I die the next hour 

Then I'll make peace with myself at this moment.

I know I have lived my life

To best I could,

Loved to the best I should.

And so I have to make peace 

With myself,

For the things I was not able to do, 

Because of circumstances 

That forced me not to.

Tell myself it is not my fault 

That stars don't always align.

Make peace with myself 

As I go and leave

Pieces of me behind.

Magic behind the lens 📸