To Bloom

~An Introductory Poem~

A flower doesn't always bloom, even though it should.

To not see one's own potential is a crisis to behold.

There are truths to be told and battles to be faced.

But the lack of one's will is bitter to the taste.

To be forgotten and discarded.

Not remembered or loved.

Is a disaster of itself, for ones without love.

From this pain, sprouts new beginnings.

Rejuvenated by tension, stress becoming growth.

We learn in this moment what matters the most.

To hurt is to grow, and to grow is beautiful.

To live a carefree life, free from abysmal thoughts.

To be remembered for the love that we give to one another.

A sacred art woven deeply in our roots.

To care for another, entails you care first for yourself.

We must take heed of life and what it may bring.

Pain will come, and there is no end to suffering.

If it ended, we would never grow.

We would never change, we could never be.

We are human, limitless and free, if only because we feel the pain.

Embracing life at its best and its worst.

Is what truly defines us.

As human beings.

Growth can come in many forms, big or small.

We should not shy away from opportunities of growth.

But we should also not throw our lives away needlessly.

The potential we all carry is a heavy burden in itself.

Cracked crowns worn upon our heads.

The woes of man are heavy in his mind.

To bloom is to accept what is to come from what is already happening.

The present.

To grow is to flower into something you can be proud of.

The future.

We would not be able to bud, if we weren't meant to bloom.

The past.

Without pain, we would never become buds capable of blooming.

Without harmony, we will steadily crumble.

Without love, we would surely perish.

Without each other, we will suffer fates worse than death.

~Away He Goes & Here She Stays~

I don’t wanna have to lie to your face

Tell you something you’d rather not hear

Drag you down further and further

Down into the journey of your mind

Tunnels weaving to and fro

Back and forth, soon you’ll go

I don’t wanna have to let you go

See you fall right before my eyes

The pain that comes stabs my heart

I'm torn apart as you fade away

Further and further

Away from me

They say that dreams never last

That the rain will never come

I know them to be liars, cons, and cheaters

Spewing words of nonsense into my ears

They say that worry never comes

That you’ll just be alright

Everything isn’t as it seems

As you go away tonight

I’m left here to ponder

My head and my thoughts

To think of another reason

To not feel so apart

I don’t wanna have to cry one more tear

Say that I’m fine even though it’s a lie

To tell the others that maybe it’s alright

But it never is, things always change

And then it happened

The day you ran away

Far from the reaches of your mind

Raging a fire inside

Deep within your veins

Could you feel the never ending tension?

Could you see a dream unreachable

Unachievable by simple means

If we try harder maybe there could be a chance

I’m not who I used to be

But I’ve grown into a catalyst

A dreamer that never stops dreaming

A dreamer on the edge of his seat

Watching as the light fades to dark

Head in the clouds but I’m just alright

Things could be better but I know that tonight

You might come back and be within sight

I could hold your hand

Tell you that I’m here

But there’s always that chance

That you could go away

So far away

Break my bones and set me free

Shatter my core until I’m yours

Feels like I’m going to fade

Unlike you I wasn’t ashamed

Believing in you is what I need

Not seeing you brings me to tears

This weight is way too heavy

For me to wear on my head

Will you help carry the weight

Promise me you’ll stay

I need you, I need you, I'm not okay

~The River Will Flow If You Let It All Go~

We often bear the fruit of our ancestors,

The past follows us endlessly, sometimes with malice.

The weight of it rests upon our weary shoulders,

Seemingly unending in it's vicious cycle.

But what is man, but a vessel for this circumstance.

This moment in time, where things once broken, become whole again,

Only to break apart once more if we so pleased.

Man has a fickle mind, wavering in his decisions time and time again.

This can often lead to more chaos, alas, it may also breed beauty in its wake.

Our past will stick to us forever it seems, never leaving our side,

Following us day after day, many moons pass as it follows us forever.

Seemingly, we cannot let it go, as it is a part of us,

A force that has made our current existence possible.

So should man try to abandon his past, his sorrows, and his pain?

Or should man accept the fruit his ancestors had left him?

A question many avoid throughout their lives, living carefree of all things.

But if one was to truly reflect upon his past tribulations,

He would find more in life than he would know what to do with.

A life would become worthwhile.

Worth dying for.

Worth living for.

It begins with acceptance, and ends with true peace.

To let go, is to accept. To accept, is to grow. To grow, is to truly live.

Our history molds us in ways we cannot comprehend always.

But the mark it leaves upon our soul, will stay with us for as long as we breathe.

Our skin bears the fruit of a past that's worth living for.

~An Uncut Topaz In A Field of Glorious Retribution~

She fought for what she wanted, what she believed in to be true.

Like an arrow, she pierced the hearts of all.

Every connection she had made, was pure and raw.

Like an uncut topaz attracting all that could see.

Uncut were her emotions, fickle was her mind.

She was fighting an endless war inside her head,

A force that held her back from things she had wanted for herself.

Paths she had wanted to cross, travel along, and understand.

But the pain she had held onto, seemed like a feedback loop.

The past weighed her down, despite her cheery exterior.

Never showing others the pain she harbored deep within her broken soul.

Not wanting others to feel her pain, and to help others with theirs.

That was, at this time, what she thought she wanted.

She was convinced the pain would never go away,

That she could never let it go for as long as she lived.

A shadow that would hunt her down until her dying breath,

A ghost that would haunt her for all her remaining days.

Accepting this truth, she spent her days helping others.

Putting aside her own issues as if she was powerless against them.

Not knowing of the true strength she held in her heart,

The capability she held in her hands was fruitful, endless.

But the faith she had in herself was almost non-existent,

And eventually she seemed to not care about herself at all.

Her needs, to her, were redundant and unnecessary in her eyes.

As long as she could guide and help others, she would be content.

But the days dragged, the years went by, and she was broken.

Torn apart from the inside out, her pain started to manifest deeper.

Harboring such pain began to weaken her, slowly but surely.

It had become noticeable to the ones around her,

"Are you okay?" She would reply yes.

"Do you need help?" She would reply no.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" She would shake her head.

She didn't want to impose her problems onto others,

She refused to share her pain, which she had ignored for so long, to those she cared about.

Knowing that they too still had their own problems to contend with.

Uncut and raw was her way of life, a gem deep inside a hole of dirt.

Shining to all of those that drew near her.

Rewarding those who connected with her.

As she was willing to do anything to help those less fortunate.

Was it simply a distraction from her pain?

Or was she truly not concerned for her well being?

It wouldnt be until her final days, that she would finally understand.

On her bed she lay still, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts of the past.

She pondered for many hours about her sorrow, pain, and guilt.

Guilty that she never shared her pain with others.

Pained by the way she held onto such torment for so long.

Sorrow deep in her eyes as she saw all she had not done.

But with this revelation, in her final hours, she could see clearly.

She finally felt free of all her pain, released from her soul.

No longer uncut, no longer rigid from the past emotions that once weighed her down.

She felt like a polished gem in the rough, years of pressure made her whole.

A feeling she never knew would come to her, as she was blind for so long.

As she lay there, comfortable in what her life had been, knowing that not much more was to come, she smiled and fell asleep for what seemed like forever.

A gem that would find its value towards the end of its life.

A beautiful topaz.

~Faded Glory~

We were naïve to think that the past would carry into the future.

As if time was slipping away, day by day, until the dust had finally settled.

Alas, the dust we saw beneath us was greater than we had imagined.

A castle had formed by the pieces once left behind.

And with it, a queen had emerged, like a caterpillar from its cocoon.

Those empirical walls towered over us, high into the clouds, not seeming to have a limit to it's height.

The castle that had formed was as grand as a crystal ball.

With this, the queen had thought all was possible, within her life of such grandeur.

Each piece had trailed behind her, as a servant would its master.

She was an empress to some, a mother to few, and a queen to all.

The land had acknowledged her entirely, as if there was naught else that could or would succeed her.

In her glory she reigned above those clouds, as dark as they mayhap been at times.

Other times they shined with the brilliance of a sapphire, untouched by man.

She was above kings in her time, towering over all who dared oppose her.

Alas, time was more fickle than she had hoped, and a grey demeanor had followed her throughout her years.

A shadowy cloud of malevolence that she could not avoid.

A trailing shadow that followed her every step.

From her throne she ordered many, executed many, and loved many.

All seemed right within her reign, as if a dream had been borne from her inception.

She seemed ever so graceful with each order, each movement, and each word spoken.

Life demanded not much from her, but at the same time, demanded all from her.

The clouds rolled over her castle walls, weakening her resolve, slowly but surely, as the years ticked away.

She had tried all to remain as she once was in her prime, by more means of love, execution, grace, and demands.

To look and feel as she once did within her youth.

A dream, she had thought, that was more and more unattainable as time passed.

A mirage, she imagined, that was getting farther and farther away.

The queen lay underneath the cosmos, praying to higher powers that may be.

Hoping that there was a way to alleviate her sorrows of age and declining status as ruler.

The gods never did answer the queen, nor the angels, for she was forsaken by the heavens for her power she once held above all others.

The glory she brandished among the world had been her downfall.

The people she ordered, despite the ones she had loved, had outweighed those loved by much.

So much that it no longer mattered, the damage that was wrought had been finalized in her lifetime.

The pain she felt was the pain of those beneath her rule.

Time had followed her unto her dying days, a flowering weed that was beautiful but ended up being too much for the soil in which it grew.

The castle that was built had deteriorated, slowly with time.

The pieces that were left behind had lost their value.

All that remained was a fossil of a queens past.

A faded glory.

~Forsaken Love Against Your Wishes~

Frankly, she knew that her love for him was tarnished from the beginning.

That this man could never love her the way she needed to be loved.

The way he held himself was poor, his mannerism meek, and his insight nonexistent.

Yet, in his fallacies, she could not keep her eyes off of him.

There was an attraction that was not only unnerving, but unrelenting.

Something stirred in her bosom that only made her more in love.

It was forbidden, for someone of her status, to even be seen around a man such as him.

He was nothing in comparison to her, a fly on the wall that was an annoyance to all.

Alas, like a moth drawn to a dangerous flame, she could not stop.

Him, living his peasants life, had unknowingly attracted the eyes of the most beautiful mistress in all the land.

She would watch him from afar, from her grand estate, from the height of her carriage, and from across the river where he fished.

There never seemed to come an opportunity where she could escape to see him, to speak with him even once.

The judgement she would receive from people of her rank would be cruel, unending, and destructive, if she were to ever be so much as seen by him.

Knowing this still, she had not lost hope and would constantly look for an opening, a steady light of hope rested in her heart for the man with naught but the rags on his back.

There came a night were she was unusually alone, given time to roam as she pleased.

This was a moment she had waited years for; years of watching who she thought was the man of her dreams, never knowing when she would have such a chance.

Escaping her estate, she went down the river, praying to the gods that this man would be there, as he spent most his nights.

As she came to the water, across its surface she saw a man, but not just any man, it was him.

He saw her gazing upon him and frantically looked away, as if embarrassed to be seen by such a beauty as herself.

There was a bridge not far away, and she dared cross it to be closer to him.

Coming to the same side as him, she approached and simply introduced herself to him, face to face. As if he was more than just a peasant, and her, not of high standing as she was.

She gazed into his eyes as his equal, and he was stupefied by what the night had brought him.

Telling him of all the times she had watched him in envy, in bliss, in love by his simple way of living.

Laughing, he could not control himself and insisted that she jest.

With a stern look in her eyes, he knew it not to be as such.

Was he dreaming, was this truly happening this night by the river which he had often frequented?

She explained herself in ways he would understand, telling him of her life, what she thought she lacked, and her seemingly maddening love for a man whose name she did not know and whose status was the opposite of hers.

Knowing that he was fearful of what others would think of this, she knew he would not make the first move.

In what seemed like forever, but happened in an instant, she grabbed him and kissed his lips deeply, her passion flowing through him.

Astonished, dumbfounded, and at peace, he blankly gazed upon the angel that stand before him.

She knew this all to be wrong to most, but after she had shared that kiss, she knew what it was that she must do.

Leaving him by the river with a memento and her name, she promised to return the next night she could with a gift unlike he'd ever known.

It wasn't until many moons had passed that she had been given the opportunity she was waiting for.

She grabbed her fortunes, a horse, and left her estate, not daring to look back and headed to the river as promised.

There he was, waiting as he had these many nights by the river where they had shared their kiss.

She approached him and by his surprise she offered a life with her, to run away from the place they had grown.

From her estate and his slums, they would leave it all behind to be together.

To a rural part of the country, they lived the rest of their lives full of love, trust, and their dreams.

A man who was born to nothing, a woman who was born to everything, and a love that seemed improbable to all those who lived.

A forsaken love against the wishes of all.

~Wrinkled Past~

There would come a time in his life where man could no longer feel his own presence.

As if time was eluding him, just out of his grasp.

There in an instant, but gone in a split second, there was simply no way for him to hold onto what he once knew.

The past was growing farther and farther away, yet there was naught he could do to stop it's path.

Memories of old, haunting these halls in which he wandered endlessly.

Paintings hung all around, displaying the past in all it's grandeur.

Fragments of a time that no longer existed, for the cycles of time were everlasting and never-ending.

But the memories themselves still came to him in vivid strokes, like a brush on a canvas.

Past conversations with friends and colleagues would flood his mind, haunting him relentlessly.

Reminding him of a time that is no more.

A time that will never be again.

The past would float farther and farther down the stream of life.

Any sane man would be terrified of forgetting fond memories of old.

As the sands of time trickled ever so slowly within the hourglass of his life.

There would come a time where the last grain would fall into its place at the bottom of the glass.

To a point where everything would fade and become hazy in his eyes.

Man is not immortal, nor is his feeble mind.

Typically, the mind is usually the first piece to fall apart of the puzzle that is man.

Next would be his body, and thereafter, his soul.

Death would swallow everything, including the times once remembered.

Was there no way to preserve the past?

No way to tip the hourglass of time to reset it's course?

Was he doomed to accept his fate and all that came with it?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

He could do naught to steer the ship in the other direction.

The course that had been set so long ago could not be altered.

And the waves that pushed him would keep pushing and flowing.

The past would be the past, and would flow farther down the stream.

To accept such a fate would mean to accept the truth that is death.

Time is everlasting, but never the same, it's everchanging.

Every moment is a reflection of the past, a remembrance of a time that is no more.

But also a painful reminder of what may come.

The future cannot be avoided, it will come regardless.

But man must remember that it too shall become the past in time.

For it is eternal, immortal, and impervious to the tidings of man.

A wrinkle in time will only become more so wrinkled as time ticks away.

~To Be Alive Was Simply A Gift~

I spent the majority of my days in a daze,

Wandering endlessly without much say.

The moon came and went,

The sun never seemed to set.

The stars always seemed to flee,

I was still alive, of that I could clearly see.

The waves would crash, on and on.

The clouds would pass, by and by.

But when I looked to the ocean, I could not see its tides.

And when the clouds passed me, I could not see them fly by.

Seemingly trapped in an illusion of my own mind,

Never waking from the slumber of life.

Mirages came in countless forms,

Tricking my cerebrum into assuming them to be true.

Thoughts clouded my mind, as the days went by.

Clouding my judgement, I simply could not deny.

With every breath that I inhaled,

And every step that I took,

I could see that I was going in circles.

The world seemed to blend into itself,

Never changing from its horrific cycle.

Repetition seemed to be the curator of my life

Yet, in this dream, I felt more alive than ever.

Even if there came to be a numbness in my bones.

An aching in my heart, and a structure to my soul.

Formless. Painful. Free.

At the end of my days, I could see a truth buried in my life.

That these trials and tribulations had a meaning.

The facades in my life had some sort of semblance.

They were a gift from the powers that be.

A gift that I would learn to cherish,

The gift of life, unsettling but free.

It was mine, and it filled me with glee.

~Knots Tied In Tandem~

We would weave together, thoughts on a page.

A structured story of this and that.

The inkwell would never run dry,

This quill seemed endlessly moist.

Each stroke of the hand seemed more blissful than the last.

The powers of the imagination turned words into magic.

A world that was never to be created,

Was formed by a free, creative soul.

Our minds play with us and take us to places we do not understand.

But the unknown seems the most attractive to man.

For he cannot resist its limitless temptations.

To understand the inner workings of life is his mission.

Would there ever be an end to his madness?

Or would he be stuck knitting together hopes on a page?

There would come a day where the ink must run dry,

Where the quill must be placed down in completion of his work.

Man was fearful of the powers of words,

He knew the potential that each phrase held.

A deeper meaning behind each thought.

A reality most men refuse to accept during their lives.

The poet spends most of his waking hours within his own mind,

Seemingly trapped in a story of his own.

Weaving words into life,

His life into words.

The umbilical cord connecting him to his work.

Man could not escape the narrow structure.

A supply line to his work, his quill, his ink.

Yet it constrained him, strangling his creative flow.

There would always be hiccups, issues that would arise.

The quill may break under his forceful hand.

The ink could spill by the slightest mistake.

To be careful, was one of the things man must be aware.

In a world where most things are connected,

Man needed to be aware of every single piece of the puzzle.

If he were to make a single mistake within his life,

It would jeopardize the entirety of his life's work.

With every movement in one direction,

There was a movement in the opposite direction.

A pendulum that would swing to and fro,

Man needed to move in tandem with its course if he were to survive.

A constant weaving where no mistakes could be made,

Strokes on a page that must be perfect.

An interconnectedness with life that must not be ignored,

Man was clumsy but able to be the curator of his own making.

As long as he knew how to move in tandem with life.

There aren't many times in our lives where we are given the chance to bloom, to prove that we are worthy of life, that we are able to do the unthinkable and at most times, unfathomable.

But those opportunities will always present themselves, even in the most bizarre ways. We are given the choice then, should we wish, to accept or deny the tasks that lay before us.

Should we proceed to push our limits, do the seemingly impossible, or walk the road less traveled, if we are to make it to the ends of these goals, we are gifted with treasures we thought not acquirable.

Knowledge will flood our minds, love will fill our hearts, and heroism will destroy our fears. Certain opportunities make us into stronger people, should we allow the changes to occur and the actions to take place.

A butterfly will never be if the caterpillar never wishes to proceed into its chrysalis. As it undergoes its drastic changes, it is gifted with the dreams of flight and beautiful appearance.

Should the caterpillars mind be full of doubt, fear, and hate, it will never make it to the cocoon in which this change takes place, knowing that the cocoon is dark, lonely, and leaves it immobile for a long period.

It takes courage to break these fears, to shape the mold that surrounds us, and it takes heart to be hopeful of what may come after the storms of life pass us by, for after most storms, there are rainbows waiting to be seen.

You can and will bloom, you simply need to take the leap of faith, take advantage of the doors that open before you, and have a little bit of courage to pull you through to the other side. You are beautiful, you are wonderful, and most importantly, you are worth it.

Be the caterpillar that dreams of blooming into a magnificent butterfly.