The Truth of Being a Crow

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts

After flying long and hard,
I find myself tired.
My wings, glossy and beautiful,
seemingly go unnoticed.

For the way I see,
I am alone, always wanting,
Amongst those who mimic me,
who give my image ill repute.

Within my eyes,
the ebony black definition of loss,
a place where no dreams survive,
Empty as my hope to fly.

Dear eagle, why am I not your brother?
could I, if not for such ugly brethren be yours.
Would my spirit not shine, as my wings once did,
upon the blue sky of day, brilliant and powerful.

Is my path born to me, wishing and hoping,
as my coven flock around decaying dreams,
and the bodies of strangers become our feast.
Do I dare say, that I am different?

I am not different.
That is what my fear tells me.
I cower behind that thought in the night.
Hoping that the voice of truth is never heard.

I watch my family,
as they tear away the purity of life,
destroy the sanctity of peaceful slumber,
and drag each soul into our chaos.

I watch.
And I am ashamed.
My feeble hope to be something more, is quiet.
Amongst a roar of indifference and hate.

I find in being alone,
that my image has lost the glamor I once dreamdt,
if I could only hold myself with faith,
I may once day be an eagle.

A little poetic, a little life

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts

To the people who try, the people who forgive. To the people who find themselves standing alone when they’ve done things right, but everyone thinks it is wrong. To the people who try, when trying means sacrificing the last breath you have.

Do not give up, do not lose hope. Do not give in, and do not let go. Keep true to yourself, the words and thoughts that make you who you are. Hold on to everything you believe in as if it is the only thing worth believing in. Your spirit will keep your compass true.

To the people who love, to the people who care. The people who hold themselves to standards that everyone else discards, the people who cherish the forgotten memories and the promises of the past. To the people who know what real friends are, when being a true friend means risking everything.

Do not forget, do not falter. Do not hold mistakes against yourself, but hold yourself to fix them. Do not try to become something you are not, only try to believe in something you have always been. Do not close your hand in a fist, only hold your hand open and lend it to those in need. Your heart will follow whatever lessons you embrace.

Try hard today. Try harder tomorrow.
If you do these things, this world will be a better place.

Those ideas define so much of my life.

Afraid of the Dark

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Survival

When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark. You wonder as an adult, if there are monsters you imagine in life, or if life is simply something that details the playing shadows of night. Sometimes we grow over them, sometimes we don’t. As life went on, I knew the things worth being scared of were the things you could see. My imagination couldn’t hold a flame to the horrors of society or the reality of the world.

Afraid of the Dark.

I tried to remember how beautiful things were,
before the gray rain filled the sky,
bringing such a subtle feeling across my face.
as there was no dream left in slumber,
just breathing it’s life into my own,
keeping me adrift in a land of chaotic taste.
I saw, feeling as blindly as only I could,
as my thoughts hoped and beheld,
before a moment when my eyes fell open,
and my hands, without strength, failed me.
I fought, not as if I had purpose, but faith,
pushing myself against moments of passing,
watching the clouds darken above me,
as the chill of night crept into my heart.
I ran, faster than a pace I could carry,
finding that I was alone with all my fears.

********************************

http://www.trueloveofcoffee.com

Daily writing, a little bit of life.

Posted by in Author's Favorites, Daily thoughts

I was listening to the sounds of laughter, voices trying to entertain my thoughts as I wandered down the corridors of life in the city. I found myself browsing through the daily colors I was seeing, the attitude of the mysterious faces I passed by, and the mixture of opinions that were not my own.

So many thoughts. Beautiful, rampant, evolving. I didn’t know where each question began, or where each answer took me.

I sat down in a passive little cafe and ordered a mocha from a girl who didn’t know what life really had to offer. I could see it in her eyes- that her life was riding alongside of the recipes she muddled through, as if each beat of her own heart could be ordered with room for cream or tossed into a cup of ice… chilled to the bone.

I sat quietly in the corner booth, slowly sipping on my warm drink and finding myself slightly lost in sweet decadence… pondering the people that stood in line and patiently waited for something to add flavor to a rather boring morning.

Each and every one was different, from the professional man dressed in a two thousand dollar suit who checked his watch fifteen times to the young mother who held her infant son snug against her chest.

Unfortunately for them, the flavor they were seeking in a morning beverage could never bridge the gap they were seeking to fill. They needed life, raw and uncut, with fear and love, passion and loss, the need to embrace every single opportunity with appreciation and yearning.

Thirty-seven people later I had witnessed what felt like every flavor of the world.

I thought to myself… “what do I know?”

Definitely not everything. I know the flavor, I know the basic steps, but I do not know how the young girl across the counter is going to create my experience. I do not if I will sit alone in the corner booth or if I will gladly smile at the wonderfully interesting man sitting next to me and strike up a conversation about his war-torn briefcase or the way he sips his own morning experience this day.

I do know, that rather than leave this day in peaceful and inquisitive enlightenment… that I will instead walk up to the counter and order a black cup of coffee, that I will pause for a moment, and buy the next three people in line a cup of whatever they feel they need.

In life- the lesson is simple for me. The best things are free and the truest cost is only your perception.

***********************************************

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.

Sometimes, I feel like the year.

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts

I asked the winter sleep, biting my tongue
As sweet drops of spring fell,
and lost themselves to summer’s memory.
I wondered if I could feel passion
the lasting lust of forever
gracing my spirit like winter’s embrace.

If only for one second, not frozen
the question could be answered,
that I would be warm, hopeful.
I would find myself tenderly falling
comforted by my lover’s dreams,
the sweet sound of our hidden desires,
like leaves on the wind.

If to ask but just one question,
That I find peaceful transformation
With perfect faith of knowing,
when my sun would blaze again,
a brilliance breaking the horizon.
I would ask the winter; no beg,
for the warmth of spring’s return.

And like all great seasons,
That I become lost again, waiting,
purposely falling and raising again,
reaching for the stars and the moon,
of my hopes and dreams,
As I witness my revolution,
of being complete.

Flight of an Angel

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Dreams, Spiritual

In a lonely place, I said farewell
No longer could I dwell,
And I left no sign of personal relation
As divine words, became my hope of salvation
No trace on these crimson skies
Just thoughts chiseled within the question why.
Days of failing memory,
Distant things I cannot convey.

The stemmed roses in a field of dream,
Reminded me of things no one else saw.
One more step, I tell myself
That my spirit survives and will never fall
That I must carry my faith alone,
My aching heart, perfect in itself,
Weighing more than any would know.
As I questioned my body, my need of believing,
In something that even I could never see.

Should I wander, the wonder of my life
May it be that I will go, to leave this lonely place.
That your wings carry me when I fade,
I am away, perhaps not this day, but in feelings I must stay
That I never question, nor should I ponder,
This path I find within your eyes,
No I will not ask, no I will not forget,
For my thoughts simply remember beautiful,
And you, my angel, taught me how to fly.

Some people

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Spiritual

Some people, are amazing.
Simple flames in the darkness.
Calm voices in a chaotic world,
the serenity of silence within a storm.

Some people, perfect life.
Breathing in the beauty of today,
of escaping yesterday
and dreaming of tomorrow.

Some people, never believe.
In nature, how wild life is,
or the way we all evolve,
changing ourselves with the season.

Some people, amazing, perfect, believing,
know how to live, how to strive
to become more, than today,
and never stop finding themselves again.

Dreaming of Travel

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts

I was walking last night on a path that someone else had laid.
It was curved, with slight changes and subtle flaws.
The pebbles underneath my life described my thoughts,
as they scratched against a thousand stones seemingly identical.

The motion of my body was slow and steady,
completely obscuring the cascading flurry of my dreams.

I thought of hope and of desire,
of finding myself at the destination of this circular route.
I wandered through each step with purpose,
not knowing if I would find myself traveling alone.

The words in my head detailed the things I witnessed,
the very fiber of life that creates something whole.

Each phrase, each pebble,
every word, every grain,
built upon like-minded destiny,
becoming a route to an amazing place.

My spirit bore no resemblance to serenity,
it was a place of deafening silence, of blazing resurrection.

A life finding itself in a place it was never meant to see,
taken from beneath a thousand other souls,
Believing itself to be common, like everything around it,
until simply it traveled on a journey of unspoken conversation.

The way people live

Posted by in Author's Favorites, Creative Writing, Daily thoughts, Dreams, Friendship, Honor, Survival

I don’t get too much time these days to stop and smell the roses, sometimes however sweet they are. Rather I ask myself if I remember what roses smell like. Ironically, I find myself lacking that memory. People often fail to realize if they will miss the moments of life they love, and yet I look at things and find myself terrified of losing even my past, the warm scent of life that made me smile.

What does that mean? it means I actually miss the people I care about. I miss them a lot. Unlike many people who take moments of living for granted, I take every second as if it were a treasure… the kind you would covet as a child and hide away from all danger, both real and imaginary.

This is not something that passes, for me at least, part of who I am is locked in a moment of perfect clarity. In a fear of forgetting every perfect moment, I sometimes find them haunting. Yet I feel that strange desire of actually having something worth holding, something worth sacrifice and triumph. Something worth the very tears that remind me how my heart feels.

I find myself struggling on a daily basis to reach the goal of being triumphant… of feeling it… and when I try to succeed I am aware that my efforts were too late… that I failed. Realizing I have failed someone I cared about is brutal reminder that my duty is not something that I can ignore or that I can set aside. I am better than that.

Some people refer to me as a healer, a person of serendipitous nature and exact purpose. I am a catalyst of sorts, the person people interact with to produce a reaction of unusual results.

This leads me to a question that has been asked of me before, “what is my purpose in life?”

I seem to be a conduit. Something that is not a destination, but a place of action where one does not stop. My nature provokes people into moving from A to B, and there are no stops where I am. That has always been my life, a place where people never have time to smell the roses.

I feel like I am a rose. The kind of blossom that stands by itself against the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise and be embraced by a moment of warmth, only to acknowledge that the moon and stars will soon replace the vibrancy of life that keeps me warm.

Perfect little stars. The gemini in me realizes that duality better than most. Perfect and brilliant speckles of hope that keep me hoping that the sunrise will soon make me warm again, that the beautiful night sky is a place that feels too alone.

I promised my daughter a long time ago that I would never give up on people I care about. I do not let my dreams die so easily. That is a far more difficult realization than I care to admit. Failure is not an option. Allowing my dreams, my promises, and my hopes to fade away is simply something I will not let happen.

So I keep moving. I try to explain some things, and I leave some things without any explanation as I push myself harder and faster. The brutality of caring for people often leaves me left uncared for, but that is my life. I know what will or will not kill me. I am a survivor… a catalyst that serves a purposes for the things around me.

I will always care. Honestly and wholeheartedly. Even when I the world fails to give me time to say it, I will always remember and honor how I feel.

Walking Coffee

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Creative Writing, Daily thoughts

My hands were still trembling from the bitter cold outside. I carefully held onto the handle of the glass carafe as I breathed in a subtle sigh while pouring a fresh cup of hot coffee. I wondered if my thoughts of being honest were any different from the gentleman waiting patiently next to me, or if I was simply insane and the caffeine in my veins was the only reason my heart still seemed to function

I glanced over to the man through the corner of my eye, feverishly waiting for the aroma of the French blend to reach my nose as I stirred it with a single dash of sugar. He looked at me for a moment and I felt something inside, a brief connection to someone who shared my youthful nature.

I handed the carafe over, comically saying that “I saved some for him.”

His reply was simple, yet told me so much- “There is always more where that came from.”

I nodded with my agreement. He was right, there is always more where that came from. He calmly poured his cup with an almost artistic manner as I commented on the chilling rain coming down outside.

We both wandered to the front of the store and paid for our drinks as we both somewhat comically chatted with the clerk who was obviously bored and alone. When we were done talking, we both stood quietly at the glass doors looking at the dark midnight sky and the sparkling rain falling like glistening stars as the city light reflected off each drop.

With odd coincidence we both said the same words in unison; “Falling stars.”

We didn’t say anything else. We looked each other in the eye, smiled from the corner of our lip, and then shrugged our shoulder as we continued watching the water cascade from the clouds. For a moment we were two guys drinking the same coffee and pondering the same questions of life.

I thought- whenever you feel alone, someone else is there to prove you wrong.

I brushed my wet hair back and turned up the collar of my wool jacket. I sipped one last time off the rim of my coffee cup as I told him to enjoy the rest of his evening. My hands didn’t want to lose the warmth they were holding, so I pushed open the glass door as I backed through it in reverse, hoping to shield my face from the abrupt wind carrying the chilling rain.

Every step I took felt like one in search of something. The bright light of the little café seemed to fade almost as quickly as the warmth of my coffee. The freezing rain was an unkind reminder of how the sensation in my heart was different than that of my body, my face was numb within a minute of walking and my soul felt like it was looking for the same loss of sensation. My feet kept in motion, not missing a single step as my thoughts wandered aimlessly amongst the neighbourhood streets of long forgotten memories that didn’t seem so far away tonight.

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