The honest glow

After flying thousands of miles
your eyes tear up and shine
almost every time you look at me
most precious little pearls
of love, care and worry
for your days have been my nights
and your nights my days
for too long

the honest glow in your eyes
collapses the miles
and makes the world just as small
as we want it to be
even momentarily
with the sun
warming our cheeks together
and we hold on to these moments
and the warmth
until we meet again

A secret appreciation

This journey we share
is so full of colors
surprises
laughter
joy
and love

in each laughter

a hidden worry
in each surprise
a secret appreciation
for the life I was given
to build
and to guide

and I
don't have any guarantees
that the colors won't change
I don't have any assurance
that I can spot every crack and puddle
every steep angle and sharp edge

but I will try
to keep my mind free
and my heart open
to feel every second
of being with you

you inspire me
to be a better version of myself
you have given me the gift
of unconditional love
with so many colors and lights
flashing in front of my eyes

In the patched pockets of your mind

so it turns

a fresh page

for a new beginning

once more

leaving behind

the known and the familiar

hoping for highs and lows

and the in betweens

so it roars

belief and patience

for its fuel

doubt dancing around

like drops of rain

on its fogged up windshield

so it breaks

changes shape

changes color

some edges sharp

some curvy and soft

some pieces will be lost

maybe sitting and gathering dust

in corners you will never reach

so it shines

so bright at times

that would make it hard to see

but you have to trust

you have to focus

and keep your eyes

on the road ahead

so you pack

enough to help you remember

enough to let you forget

what was

and what could have been

so it shows

with whites on your head

with lines near your eyes

with scars on your shoulders

holes in your bag pack

and memories

like little transparent marbles

in the patched pockets of your mind

curious freedom

"Exile bestows a curious freedom, compensatory perhaps,

to remake the past. In the state of exile we remember as we wish."

-Roger J. Porter

in the midst of it all

i'll take the fall
i'll bring the excuse
i'll show my face
and rest my case

i know that time
helps me forget
and it has
and the sunset
shows new colors every day
for a blending
for a changing of perspective
for a new way of thinking

the past
envelopes itself
it blows itself up
and flies into my sunset colored sky
..i see through it

we are special
you are right
only if we believe we are
and we can live up to our potentials
we can carry our dreams with us
and not let them get lost in the midst of it all..

the colors change

the colors change
within minutes
or even seconds
i know they do
i see that they do
i hold up my hand
i stretch out for yours
we are getting used to this angle
we are getting used to this spot
we are filling in the dots
we are stretching out our thoughts
our imaginations..

the tips of my fingernails

the tips of my fingernails
are white
the edges of my thoughts
are glowing

in the back of my mind
old memories have shifted around
and made way
for the new ones
of the same people
and the same places

i only realized now
how much i had missed
the gray hot summer days
of these streets

i walked around with family
with friends
new and old
under the heat of the sun
and i let the old thoughts melt away
i let my mind float
i let the heat wrap around me
and i carried it with me
back home.

another glance

you take a glimpse
at the water
the colors
the reflections
the flowers floating
mixing with the colors
circling the breeze
you feel the street
the warmth of friends
and you breathe in the energy
you know that this is the present
and that this might seem
one day in the near future
like a familiar dream
so you turn back
and you steal another glance

yesterday's new tints

would i see things differently
when i fly back?
would i hear more?
would i understand?
what will i pack?
what should i bring back?
have the colors changed?
have the clouds rearranged?
why does it seem
as if i will fly into
my own childhood dream?
why do i fly?
why do i fly back?

swirl

a circle
that wraps you in
a swirl
that contains the days
and all that is said
and all that is done

i find myself
by myself again
and it feels
as if it never were
any different..

they cut through lives
and leave
brick steel concrete
lifeless cranes
moving instead
of green leaves
i close my eyes again
and i imagine
blue orange and pink
blending slowly behind
my tall green trees
i close my eyes again
and i imagine..

corner

i mix
i match
i break
i crack
i color all of them back

i store
i send
i crave
i bend
i get back on the track

i see
i hold
i care
i fold
a corner to bring back

tall and strong

it is like I have lost
two of my close friends
he said

i feel the emptiness
i feel the loss

i wonder how
they can cut through life
like that
break it into pieces

i wonder why
i wonder how
people lose their connection
to the nature and the earth
i wonder how they see it

they could have built the house
beside them
they could have built
a smaller house

they could have removed them
and planted them
somewhere else

i feel angry
for not being there
to protect them

i feel sad
i will miss watching them
dancing through the winds
i will miss them welcoming the birds
sitting on their branches
and singing
i will miss the huge nest

i will miss the sunrise
sprinkled on their skin
and the sunset
coloring their backs

i will miss their winter nakedness
their spring blossoms
their full green
their yellow and orange fall

it was so sudden
he said
one day they are here
and the next they are gone

i feel like we are next
he said
that they are coming after us
the machines

i close my eyes
and i imagine
that they are still there
tall
and strong

i will miss our trees..

until

somehow
somewhere
someone
leaves a track
and you follow it
until
you find a new track

somehow
somewhere
something
makes you feel at home
you wrap yourself in it
until
you find a new home

second life

on the roof
right on the edge
of what looks like
a house
i don't know where
not sure if i like it
i really don't know it
don't know how to fly
where to fly
what to look for
what to ask

but there is a mystery
maybe some possibilities
some changes
some challenges
so i try again
i try to stay
i try to equip myself
to be able to be born
again..

from another point

from another point
i could merge
into a world
that has no beginning
or end
i would float
into a void

start and end
are definitions
words
frames
from which to contain
but they cannot keep
they cannot envelope
they cannot orbit
they cannot wrap
they cannot repeat
they cannot exist

shifts
signs
footprints
anything that follows..

it can be anything

i have no fear of it
it can be anything
we can all be bunny rabbits
he says
we can even be the balls
the colorful balls
on the river
we can be floating
we can be flying
we can be nothing at all
is there a fear
of the nothingness
of a loneliness
of a darkness
how is one to know
how is one to think
i have no fear of it
it can be anything

we might be able to hear them
the beings of the other worlds
in a few years

it is a matter of time
he says
before we can find a way
to live
forever
to make each piece survive
and function forever
but would i want it
even if i see it
happening

i have no fear of it
it can be anything
or nothing at all

a testament
for the memory
drawing over the curves
so that they wouldn’t fade..
over time

redrawing
revisiting
remembering

an absence
of just the physical nature
but present
as present as you can remember it
as present as you can keep it

as present as you can keep it.

it’s an escalation
a growth
can’t hold it in a photo
can’t draw it on the skin
can’t carve it out of wood
can’t see it from one angle

it’s a revelation
a release
can’t describe it with a color
or zoom into and out of it
can’t sort things into it
can’t own it

it’s a celebration
a joy
not for a day
or a part of an hour
not for the birth or death
not for the before or after

comes and goes..
comes and goes..

somewhere in between
a memory and an imagination
something roots
and grows
and becomes
a reality.