Dejar ir

lying on a beach soaking up the sun

and travelling between my future and my past

I think I spend too much time

Fighting the long gone years

cursing all those who hurt me

nursing soul scars

the sad bitter moments of my past taught me a lot

but I think I am ready

and all those moments need  a proper burial

                                 often on a road lost in my thoughts

                                 I stumble upon some pebbles from way back

                                 gather them and ponder over them for hours

                                 not gaining from them anymore

                                 but still just brooding over the never dying past

                                 how will it go

                                 oh how will it if i don’t let it leave

                                 I think i am ready now

                                 and all those moments need a proper burial

I will find a place and howl them out

 vent those unhappy smokes

wash my soul, clear my heart

create space for new thoughts

forgiving and forgetting is not going to be easy

but I will have to learn to move on with what ever I have had

today I am sure

today I am ready

and all those moments will be given a proper burial

Crystal Clear Dreams

There is a room in my house

a very special room

with a big window

it  lets in fresh air

and filters the junk

not for myopic thoughts

but  the window is kind and some say

they too have seen some sparkles

the  window has a view to die for

a beautiful sunlit sky

cool breeze of  contentment

fresh blossoming thoughts

and each colour of rainbow

spreading messages of love and harmony

the woods and her allies are  such great pals

invite me to every single birth

leaving me humbled every  time

for I realise how small yet important

each entity is

the  greens, the browns

I know them all by name

and the winged soul uncaged

floats in this world

I never ask for more

I never settle for less

I guess all my dreams

They taught me well…

One Cuppa Life

As I take a sip of the fresh brew          

Its aroma hits my senses

What is it about a hot cuppa?

That relaxes you and shakes your grey cells,  

Both at the same time

And I look at the warmth of the cup and wonder

This tea certainly has a strong character

And a sweet soul

Will I be able to do justice to it?

Will I be able to utilize its strength to the fullest?

Will its sweetness keep my bitter memories at bay?

Have I been fair to it so far?

What if in the last few sips it loses its taste,

Becomes bland and cold?

Will it be the teas fault or mine?

For I let it sit idle, same age old mistake of not jiving with time

There were other invites, full of warmth and promises

And I chose this one

It demands certain pace and respect for the all things hot

When I finish, will the cup be clean and empty, may be a small drop left

Or will the cream of what I could have had, be in the cup still?