The closure I think comes to you in a million ways, Sometimes in ways of the world falling apart And sometimes with a chance to put it all back together, There will be baggage, of-course, But then you’ve aced the art of solo travel darling, Remind yourself of all the fiercer bulls you have leashed & shoo this little pup away, Remember,
You’re not the La La Land, You’re the Oscar for it!
We have run from clubs to beaches and back, Drinking poisons from bottles, Jumping into seasons of deep seas in our clothes, And making out on the rocks through thunders, Made promises over wildfires high fiving thunders, To never make sense, To hope the odds are in our favor, And I fell in the supernova of the moment, Oh the blast, And the following curl of smoky whirlwind will last forever!
There are lives I have lived, There are lives I haven’t. There are hopes I have abandoned, There are dreams I have forgotten, I’m no superhuman, Nor do I intend to be, Like a humming bird I fly back and forth, I relive hopes and dreams, They fear no death, For none shall have one, Like grandma’s abode, We meet each burning fall, With a promise!
When you are in a memoir territory, emotions become dominant at large. So much so, that once while reviewing a memoir, a New York Times Editor, (also a reviewer, a playwright, a critic, etc.) Neil Genzlinger, looked at the audience and started by saying, “A moment of silence, please, for the lost art of shutting up.”
Mallorca looks like the school project from above the clouds, the one that we used to orchestrate for historic structures! It’s astounding to witness something so enormous to be so laid back. It’s a wide, wet, lazy island, not the kind that’ll make you yawn but the kind that’ll make you wanna play your life in your head, one more time.The kind that’ll count every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take,’It’ll’ be watching you!!
It’s funny how we push,
For all the nonsensical things in life,
Things that lead us to nowhere,
Add nothing to us,
How awfully well we realize this,
When we look back,
Laugh, cry, crib, question, & judge
Our truths maybe different,
Our journeys maybe too,
But the thing common about our reality is
The whole idea of letting your fire go, For someone who only breathes fire, Is so dangerous, In a moment of realization, When your heart gets heavy, And it feels like your head may blast, If you didn’t let all that love out, Like you actually, literally have reached A point where you feel, “You’re above my fire, That’s it, I’ll gulp down my own fire for you”, That kind of love is dangerous, And that’s the kind of love We need!