Summer

Wishy washy deep blue sea

My dear is so far away from me

Over that endless, salty sea

Her hair is whiter than the sand beneath my feet

It trickles in between my fingers like my time left

It clouds before my eyes in this clear blue sky

I whisper to her my final goodbye

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Enemies

Slowly, she waits before me. Her eyes a hungry anger.

For what? I did nothing. Yet as a slithering snake she reaches me.

The sizzling fire of pain rips through my veins.

As the hope in me recedes, I can only wonder:

Why do we have enemies?

Hearts

Hearts. What does that word mean to you? Yesterday, I learned about a Greek philosopher named Socrates. You may have heard of him too. He was always questioning things. “What is love?” “How do you tell when you truly love someone?” those questions we fail to ask ourselves every day. Another case is a wonderful book I read called “A Beautiful Question.” It was eye opening. I recommend this to anyone who reads this article. My question for you is “How does writing change your life?”

Dance

As a writer, you might think my purpose is, well to write. But I feel it is more than that, it is to spread word. Word as in the things whispering and fluttering that your reading and speaking. But the thing is, is there another purpose? Yes, it’s my dance. So speak and dance and do whatever you do best.

Downtown

Downtown Chicago has to be one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. The buildings and beauty holds no description. The picture tells the whole story.

Change

I think the main purpose of this blog is to provoke change. We are, of course always changing. Like plants. Some people think plants have no intellegence. I’m here to tell you whoever said that is lacking intelligence, sorry it’s just not true. So go out and change the world! In a good way, please, provoke change.

Tiny

We are tiny, in this universe of ours                 I can’t believe how tiny we are I’m so blown away

but we can make ourselfs

BIGGER

Swimm

As a swimmer I swim. Not only literally, but metaphorically too. I seem as I’m writing stroke with every word when writing too.

Remeber

I went through my pictures today              All of those memories, hidden deep inside my mind, those prison bars of restraint, set free. In those moments, I can see myself now. My talents shined back then and today. The question is, what will I be tomorrow?