Tag Archives: light


I still am the same soul underneath it all, except with more years, more truths uncovered, some disappointments, some achievements and so many conscious breaths.

Days move and I move and life moves, days end and the night begins; just for me and my words. I peak through its curtains and I am summoned in. There is so much love for me here, inside. The dark is not scary, fear acknowledges me, and I nod, we have had our adversities, but behind these dark veils, there is only grace and fear only bows to that.

Inside this night I hold not just my own heart, but the hearts of loved ones, I hold their names and their spirits dance and swirl around mine. The motion is circular and the light is present within exploding like millions of fireworks.

The truth is mine, and I know, I am one with my being, this is the space I have been cultivating. This is the light I had been probing and this is the night I had been trying so hard to befriend and uncover.

Like a single lotus in the groundlessness of concrete I set my self aside and plug into the night. Consciously and carefully I find that ends meet, fear settles into faith and I unfold and dissolve letting life in.

Mortality: The ceiling 

Like a little bodied statue I stare at the ceiling. One of many ceilings and walls I’ve faced and knocked down, this one refuses to move, it refuses to let me through. I let go and decide to just lay there, maybe now I see the big picture, maybe now I see the truth. Maybe this ceiling is keeping me from completely fading away and losing touch. 

I trace my thoughts back but I have none, I have gotten too good at quieting my mind, I have become stronger and less concerned with my body. The dread remains however. The unyielding and unrelenting need to belong somewhere to something to someone, and to feel infinite remains like the strongest emotion, the most powerful thought to ever exist. I cannot come to grips with mortality, not yet. 

I stare still and remain in my body, feeling an utmost safety in it, fearing the thought of ever losing it. Fearing the day that I let it go and crack the ceiling. Why is there no infinity right here and now? Why can we not have that? Is that the biggest ego of all? To want it forever? To have continuous return? Why is it excruciatingly painful and dreadful to be so close mortality and still refuse to see it?

Is this the highest feeling of love? Is it the newfound appreciation to every spirit surrounding yourself that gives you the courage to do this? Gives you a purpose and a light? How much have we forgotten to be able to be here today? How much are we blinded from that let’s us sleep at night and not crawl back to our mothers. 

I find my dark friend laying next to me, and together we look up at the ceiling. We hold eachother, I comfort him with my hope and with my light, while he confronts me with the truth: my mortality and everyone else’s, and our never ending pursuit of a single extra moment of being awake and breathing together. 

Nothing Lost 

It remains a struggle to look outside of yourself and truly comprehend the wonder in this world. It remains an endless challenge to still believe at the end of the day, right before you close your eyes that you have been a force of good, a positive reinforcement to the powers at play. 

I dwell in the sunlight as I write, it envelopes my body like a loving mother covers a cold child. The spots that have darkened with life, are cleared away by the grace of light. 

I am still and bright, I am quiet as I gain my strength back. Nothing is ever lost inside this light. She watches from afar and greets my wanderlust soul, she watches from afar and smiles as I win this fight. 

It requires practice and might, it requires a journey through the dark. It is sometimes easy and at times a plight. She grants me a lantern and a ring to my step; she teaches me a song and disappears from sight. 

Nothing is ever lost within this light. 


It slips away when you aren’t looking, when you think it is never to be lost again. It seeps through your eyes and your pores. It drips out of your mouth as you speak, as you lie. Bit by bit, all that light begins to dim and you find your spirit sore and abandoned. It is spiritual beating it is beyond cognitive pain. It is excruciating to feel as though you have just almost found what you wanted and let it slip without really fully grabbing it. 

The journey begins again, but this time you know what you are looking for; you tasted it and felt it before. It all makes sense; you can never Un-know something you have become aware of. It is impossible to forget what you refuse to let go of. 

I dig, one mental black hole and into another. One simple thought becomes a lifetime belief and I refuse it. I look for that light beneath trenches of webbed and darkened thought. I stumble into realms of self hate all disguised as intelligence, all disguised as reality. Somehow there is a way out and I am not afraid. I am not afraid of this anymore, so i slow down…I slow down because there is nothing to be running away from it is all right where it should be. I am exactly where I should be. I recognize these walls, I spent years building them all, thought by thought, doubt over doubt. I recognize my demons and my still open wounds. One deep breath, two deep breaths and my beat is on repeat. All of this is my world, I am just on the opposite side of the fence. I like the other side much better and I refuse to let it get away from me. I walk. One step saves the next and i make my way. The confusion drills holes in my shoes, the path is difficult and elusive but I keep my pace I focus on my guide. One spec of light. It takes a single spec of light to grab a thread, which becomes a rope which becomes a bridge which becomes my kingdom of light. 

A song for the Living 

She sings and her voice taps at my skin, informally casually, she raises her voice and the tap begins to hurt, it begins to burn. She says all the right words, makes the perfect sounds and yet nothing else is perfect. Nothing besides that tune makes any sense. 

The power we posess screeches to a halt. It becomes a fault. The power remains mossy and filthy; it grows ugly and loud. It wrinkles at the edges and breaks into infected tears at the surface. That power grows heavy and damp, it drops and oozes harsh words and cold weather. I carry it all on my back like a tumor, like a dream that was supposed to be. I carry it around my shoulders and it drags its feet and swings like a nonchalant child. It kicks me in the gut whenever I remember what I had done, what I could have been. The power loses its original form and its agility. It loses its faith and it becomes despair. 

I carry it because it cannot move. I carry it as it weighs me down, I crawl as it drags its toes beside me upon the ground. It grabs my hair and pulls it away from my face, because I still am pretty despite it all. And pretty shields us from the eyes and the bigger picture. 

I carry the power be it of any kind, I bear it all and I transport it, giving away whatever is necessary of it. 

She still sings and she takes me away from where I stand. She lowers her voice and recognizes me. Pretty face in the light, a tired massive hub of demented power in the dark. She sees me through dimming lights and darker shadows. I suddenly feel lighter and my power regenerates into a magnificent beauty; i ooze words that sound magical together; I muster all the power within me and a day comes to its end. I caress the carcass I have left behind and I listen to her bringing me back home and reducing me back to life. 

A Little Living

Strength has always been a quality i somewhat considered fleeting. People who appeared to be strong, suddenly collapsed and people who you would assume to be weak had an unbelievable consistency and resiliency towards life’s twists and turns.

It seems to me that through out my numerous rampages for insight across borders, humans and emotions, I misunderstood strength. I saw one side of it and failed to see through the other. Strength; it turns out, is not apparent and is not stamped on people’s foreheads. Strength cannot be determined by the amount of tears a person sheds upon experiencing an emotion, and it cannot be perceived simply by observation. Strength, to my amazement was a quality so deeply ingrained in the heart of hearts of any person who needed it. Strength is innate; it is weakness that we are taught. Weakness is the choice after all, and not strength.

How did i reach this conclusion you may ask? Give a little girl a notebook, some books, a lot of time, some exposure to new and dangerous territory, sprinkle her space with a few traps, and hand her a little light; give her a few shoves and let her make her own way. She will discover strength and she will meet weakness. Conclusions are much better concluded than reached.

I dare say, we have unbelievable resources of power available to our reach yet we are untrained, we lack the technological expertise and the human capital to tap into it. We are developing countries in a world of superpowers- we are left to our own devices trying to make sense of a world so unlike expectations. We are scared and we are unsure, we fail miserably and we shy away from our lessons. We learn to be weak so early on in our lives -unless advised otherwise- until strength becomes a quality to be admired.

I have heard before that courage is contagious, and strength is admirable because not many can attain both. I believe however so profoundly, that life is not scary and it is merely one challenge after the other. I believe that we must live anyway we see fit, because it is only this moment, and this hour and this day, and this year; only this lifetime you get to live.

So let go, its only now


It happens while I least expect it, when I hit my solid state. It happens as I start believing that that dark maze was my forever home. It happens as I am naked and neglected, mistaking myself for a less than magic being.
Confused and bent, I thought I wasn’t going to stand tall again.
One crack at a time I hear bones mending, and veins connecting and intersecting. I suddenly stand, feet to the floor, a thrust of muscles zapping strength up my skeleton and a charge into my heart. It beats and I am myself again. It beats and I am no longer a failure; no longer beaten down. It beats and I am above the toxic city again. It beats my body into fire and crystal. My mind sets itself aflame and lights take me again. I thought I wasn’t able but I am. I thought I was numb but sedation subsides; yet I remain.
I remain after the storms and the earthquakes. I remain under rocks and inside oceans. I remain even when I want to disappear. I am invincible even when I think myself invisible. I am strong beyond my need.
Only when I almost destroyed myself and my surroundings did I feel the spark. Only when I believed in nothing at all but myself did I remember how it felt to be in love. Only when I closed all portals outside of my self and looked within did I trip over my very own core; my heart. Only when I stopped struggling, I found myself afloat.
I am not mad, I am not stuck. I am not down and I am never soluble. I do not melt and I do not fear this world. I am not slacking anymore. There is only me and my might right here, there is everything I am yet to become; there is this day and this moment. There is the magic and the human, there is the surreal and the fact. There I am again; taking what’s my own.

In the Dark



Moments; I watch them happen yet I am not inside them. I am really not inside anything but a heartless machine. I am calculated and structured, I am not forgetful nor am I as clumsy. I’m more on the surface and its killing me. I hate life on the surface it’s not right.
I force words out onto this page just to remind myself that a soul once lived here, it found solace within letters and lines. A soul cried here and looked for peace yet left disappointed most of the time. A soul that hid here now pushes under my skin, it wants life and it wants meaning. Bursting through the seams it seems yet I can barely see it.
Not in their faces do I see purpose nor in their words, they all love the surface or so it appears. They look back at me and they smile as though I have risen from depth to greet them and tell them there is more to life, good still exists. But I find that they never find me beyond that message, they don’t bother look further because what they need is a mere surface reflecting what they need or love to see.
I step away from my selfless self and I try to see what they see. If I were them I wouldn’t want to get sucked into that arrogant vacuum too. Light only makes sense to those in the dark, but light doesn’t understand it’s light because all it sees is dark. A complication? possibly, but a fact? maybe not. Light has an endless path until it’s absorbed and then transformed.
So I wait and wonder…

Opaque Windows

We must release ourselves from the castles and the walls. Smash the windows and break the doors. Start the revolution of a life we are well deserving of. We must free ourselves from minds so irritated by overthinking and inflamed with questions left unanswered.
We have nothing to hide away from because the worst of it all is inevitable and eternal. We self destruct so naturally and flawlessly into corpses and has beens. We become names and memories and there is no shame in that.
We cannot let scribbles on those walls define us, we cannot allow our space to remain so untouched and unchanged.
So maybe you are defeated, and maybe you lean against solid walls and find comfort in a shade so overwhelming you forget light ever existed. Maybe you wait for a purpose to fall from the sky or rise from under your feet. But what if youre doing it wrong? What if the dark is not all there is to the night? What if your castle is only a prison? What if while you built that tower, you forgot the way out?
We live our lives looking out of our marble windows. We peek and we squint at a world we might never touch or feel. We postulate opinions and suggestions about everything out there as we close our eyes and lock our doors.
Maybe the best salvation is a chaotic, unrehearsed and overestimated impulse. Maybe smashing your fists right through opaque glass is all it takes.
Maybe blood rolls down your palms as dust settles around you and the world finally finds you.
We must let ourselves dive out bruised and broken, colorless and unwelcome, numb and passive; the crash is all that matters. The impact; the collision itself is what we live for after all.

Existence: An Imagined Sunset on an Imaginary Shore

Warmth makes its way down my toes as i squish them further into the sand. It then flashes up my body and decides to dance its way out of my skin. I put my thoughts beside me as i stand tall on a shore i have known in different weathers. I look at the playful ocean as it teases my senses and runs away so systemically that the game is never-ending. I glance at my thoughts and nudge them to wander off; the beach is vast enough for all of us. As i watch them going away i grab my little emotions by the hand and I take them for a walk.

I catch them smiling as they cling to my hands harder; i can tell they are loving this journey. I feel at peace with the light engulfing all of us. The warmth is unstoppable and sheer. It gets our hearts beating and our skin glowing; it tickles my emotions as they play along like the infants they truly are. I am overjoyed because i miss their sounds and their songs.

The water slowly finds its way up to my feet and it retreats shyly, its softness has my emotions building sand castles by its side. I willingly leave them to soak up that softness and i continue walking. Heat hugs my body and it allows itself to moisten my skin into a beautiful reflection of light. Without thoughts and without emotions, i suddenly come to know a soul that exists unconditionally and eternally within me.

Home unravels inside me and it is calm and quiet. It tastes of nature and smells like forever. I reach inside and i lay my head in its lap as it pets my sun-kissed hair. I close my eyes and unwind into depth and serenity. A kindness wakes me up and i find a sunset taking its final bow for the day. Everything on that shore was waving and shimmering as though applauding a genius performance. I froze as i was a mere soul in audience of nature existing. I forgot myself at that moment, I neither had my thoughts nor my emotions; we all stood there separately. Inside the ocean hid the sun as it showered itself with myth and magic.

Warmth gave way to chill as my body welcomed my senses back, and called for my thoughts to lean closer. The shore, myself, and the world took solace in the night and curled beside each other witnessing a truth only found in this darkness. Existence.