From breast to mouth
a seed is sowed  
in the soil of mind
doubt

as time goes on
blow to blow
the seed sprouts
developing a leaf
adversity is fertilizer
mistrust

the first storm
knocks the seedling around
bruising leaves
which heal thicker
roots seep deeper
into the soil of mind
cynicism

From seedling to sapling
the tree grows stronger
permeating the mind
becoming more apparent
pervading life
destroying relationships

what started as a seed of infantile doubt
from breast to mouth
grows into a towering redwood
layer after layer of bark
which grows thicker and thicker

it only grows stronger
and more massive
this doubt and mistrust
but one day
I will escavate
the roots
of the seed
sowed by the breast
which was meant to nourish

No matter where you are or what you're doing, there's always going to be people who try to tell you how to live your life. There's always going to be people trying to tell you what path to take. But, ultimately, no singular path is right for everyone. People are different. Lives are different. Circumstances are different. When it comes down to it, do what feeds your soul. If having a badass career is what does it, go for it. If it's having a family, then do it. If you want to backpack cross country or up a mountain, more power to you. Live your life doing what fulfills your soul-spiritually, mentally and emotionally. Take responsibility for your actions. Be kind to others. Determine your morals and values and be an example of them. Embrace who you are as a person with your whole heart because that's the only person you'll ever be. Embrace your potential. Nobody but yourself can tell you you can or can't do something. There is no singular route to happiness. success or prosperity, because everybody has a different ideal idea of these concepts. They're as variable as  the memories.

When we stop judging others for their differences
and stop judging ourselves for ours,
then we will know peace.

The day you found out your mother had cancer I held you.
The day of her first treatment I held you.
Through tears and pain,
I held you.
When none of the treatments worked
and the reality of impending death set in,
I held you.
I held you fiercely and tightly,
hoping my arms might convey the cocoon of security
I so desperately wanted to shelter you in.

I held you when you did not want to be held.

I held you at the funeral.
Surrounded by flowers and tears I held you.
I held you tight to hold you together,
for I feared that if I did not
I would also fall apart.

I held you when you did not want to be held.

Now,
six months later,
I never hold you.

Were my arms too tight?
Did they not comfort?
I guess I will never know.
Because now,
the only way you hold me
is at arms length.

It is not jealousy I feel.
It is not anger,
nor is it sadness.
I feel missing.
I feel as if a part of me,
which should be with you,
is gone.
I do not have it.
You do not have it.
It is just simply not there.
It is the part of me which should be present in your present.
It is the part of me that we spoke of
when we talked about the future.
It is the part me that was lost
as our two souls drifted apart
morphing from best friends,
to strangers.
I see you move through phases of life
on the feeds of others who are in your present,
and it is in these moment
that I pray for serenity.
I pray for acceptance.
I pray for the strength to move on,
so that I may live my present
from the present,
with complete presence.
Not live in the present,
wishing it to be what we thought it would be
before we drifted,
morphing from best friends to strangers.