Uncertain Wanderer

Many have asked,

I know that it’s time.

My heart knows it’s worth it—

Saying goodbye.

I’ve cried the tears

I needed to cry;

I will find the courage

Needed to try.

I’ve felt the pain

I needed to feel

In order to tell me

This is for real.

My heart is not

Where it’s supposed to be;

I’m constantly finding

A place that’s for me.

But one thing is certain,

One thing for sure:

I’ve not forgotten

God’s love is pure!

So I’ve cried the tears

Yet I’ll still need to cry—

I’ll fight for the courage,

I’ll need me to try!

And even in sorrow,

Or sadness or grief,

I know there’s tomorrow,

That this life’s a gift!

So though how uncertain

This wandering may be,

Never a quandary

To wonder and see.

– Posted, May 25, 2019


Of You

Do not, I beg, you look at me.

Do not even STARE.

Of you I shall not utter,

Not ONE, a solemn dare.

Of you I shall not write about,

Of you, of whom I care.

Of you I try to think aloud

In quiet abyss stare.

Of you did countless nights go by

From whence my future waning;

Of you did stars refuse to shine,

For I’d detest their glory.

Of you, a love not known to last,

Dither WHERE I’m at.

Of you my heart doth beats a lot;

BUT I shan’t heed nor hearken.

This odd non-oath, not sworn nor spoken,

Of you, for which, such is forgotten,

It speaks to me in tell-tale mystery

A song in which a certain misery.

For there, a kingdom long forgotten,

Reigned no servant to mortal infatuation;

Lest the mortal reigned,

And lest a mortal heart was queen!


A Dream

How are you?

This is a question. This is the question.

How. Are. You.
How have you been? The years pass on, and I, my own, is a lost dream.
Good morning. Good evening. Good riddance. Good bye.
I hoped to fake a lie, and complicate the already complicated.
You were a dream I had. A fantasy in writing. A fiction from a novel. A neverending pause.

How real is a dream, and how vivid can it be? It was there, and it was not;

And we were here but now we’re not.
And how are you, my friend? How I’ve longed to know.
The words we left unspoken brought tears that were forgotten. Yet the answer did lie in what was written – an archived crusade that rotted.
My! The years passed. The shame once cruel to one, yet today, a single question, a single thought – a memory and a clause.
It is our story left unwritten…

For which sake the past forgiven.
And I think, and I wonder, and I know now what a blunder

If I had let it tarry on whilst knowing me, and knowing you.
You can’t, i say, you can’t.

And I? I shan’t forget.
I write this here today in memory. The memory of a dream.


Excerpts of Life: Understand

How I do not understand life:

How we can be sad

And then happy,

And then sad again.

How I do not understand love:

You give and give

And sometimes get nothing back,

But that’s still alright.

How I do not understand grief;

Nor anger

Or fear,

Or sadness through joy.

How I don’t understand

What I do understand

About not understanding

Since the world still revolves.

And I do not understand why I’m here.

All I know Is I have a goal;

And I don’t understand this fear,

But I know that God has a purpose.

And somehow

I’m no longer ‘fraid,

Or frustrated,

Not even pained.

For despite

That somehow I walk blindly;

I walk in fear

Of the Lord;

That He holds my hand

Ever so kindly

So I know that

I’m never alone.

(“Understand” written on Oct. 20, 2016)
Photo taken from SUNRISE WALLPAPERS on Google Play.




I knew

What I wanted

To do.
And I think

As I blink

It’s not what’s

Known to you.
I laughed

until I cried;

And well,

I could abide.
It’s too early:



That’s life only.
And if I wait

upon the stars,

Upon the dictate

of my heart,
In time I know

I’ll see the stars,

In moments up

Above the wars.
Just believe anew,

The Lord shall see you through.

Find the heart that lives

In things that shall abide.
(“Anew” 10/14/16)



This is a blank space.


I have just written “This is a blank space.” on the blank space.

Now, the blank space is no more.


Where is the border of your gate from the sidewalk?

And how do you know which part of the border is still yours?

Until exactly which part of the face is still called “chin”?

And at what angle in the horizon can we tell that the sun has begun to set?


If forty-nine people out of fifty got question A correctly,

Is that credible proof that the one in fifty is mentally-challenged?

How about if the same one in the fifty got the rest of the hundred questions correctly

And the other forty-nine got them wrong?


These are silly questions,

And I am a sad woman

Testing the limits of an unrequited love

Thinking till I cry, crying till I sleep.


How does one man know that they’ve got their stuff together?

How do they not know that it has just not arrived yet?

Do I know that it can and will arrive soon?

Well, damn.


I used to think I could write like the gods.

I used to have luck on my side.

I used to love how things just worked out for me.

I prided myself of my best and my complacency.


There is a mystery about the world –

How one can slump so low from a pedestal so high

And never even see it coming.

Who put people on that pedestal that sometimes one didn’t know how high above one stood?


And there is a mystery about people –

Like ruthlessness behind the sweetest of smiles

Or history behind an innocent face.

What made pedestals too high to hike and built craters too deep to climb out of?


What does it mean? What should it mean?

Three years tomorrow – I am thankful.

Three years gone by – I’m hopeful.

Three years. Three.


And I’ve watched my life go by,

And I’ve seen other lives go,

And I’ve known and not known things,

And I’ve had to forget things.


This blank space is filled now.

Surely, I should sleep now.

But what of tomorrow? How?

I can’t be sad, but I can’t be happy either.


This was a blank space.

Now that I have written on the blank space,

I can start again on another blank space

For this blank space is done.


But just because I’ve put it away doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.

Just because it’s in the past doesn’t mean it won’t matter.

Just because it doesn’t matter doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

It does. It does.


Just when I thought one thing, something else comes around.

Even when we anticipate consequences, we still fall in love.

Even when we prepare for it, we can still be unprepared.

My heart aches, this space is full, but my thoughts are blank.


Excerpts of Love: Around This Time Last Year

It was around this time last year.

What is it that we feel when we don’t want to feel what we think we might not have felt when we felt it?

– For yes, we felt it.

And I know not but when we felt it, it is now but a dream, or a wish of a dream.

But we both knew that wasn’t a dream.


Because it was around this time last year.

Last year, the rain felt different. I was different.

Even if the fall, at all, meant nothing in one place and so much in another, the fall exists – not here, maybe, but it exists.

The same with the coming of Winter, I guess.


And it was around this time last year, if memory serves me right,

I’d stumble and fall, and in fact, knew it all – the excitement, the passion, the longing.

And in a glimpse of the past, it all comes back

That somehow you to I and I to you – we were… and we were not, all at once

At the same time.


It was this time – this season – last year.

Fading, it, from my memory still.

It was around the same time, that I thought today, I thought –

That I would never think about it this way again.


And it’s funny how the seasons changed, the times flew by and so did we.

It’s funny how one thing led to another, and there are still so much left unsaid.

You don’t understand! –

No, you wouldn’t understand.


But the way we are, the way we left things, you gave me something – something I didn’t really ask for.

You gave me confidence – letting me know that I’m not all imperfect.

You let me know that I could be loved.

You gave me inspiration,

And the feeling of excitement – the rush of that I for so long longed to feel, and the perfect opportunity to live that one Taylor Swift song.

Yes, The Story of Us could have been a lot different by now, had I put up with things.

But most of all, at the end of it all, you gave me freedom.


When it was over, when all was behind us,

Should I have told you anything?

Do I know what to even say?

It was the same time last year – the same!

And even now, I know I feel the shame.


I remember that around the same time last year,

We opened doors and closed old ones.

At the same time last year,

An odd hello, an odd goodbye.


Around the same time last year – yes –

There was something –

Something in that with which there was nothing at all!


I loved you then, my heart was aching,

I hurt you as my heart was breaking,

I pushed away and was not faking.


At around the same time last year, I let you go.