Most days are like an empty worn
Out house
On 1300 south block
It sees all the wealthy
Empty from the lot of Costco to it's front door. -If you pay heed.

But no one pays attention
Or spends on empty houses
Those with front steps or beds to sleep in
Most walk by thinking something like,
That house did to itself.
To get to where it is.
But they would be dead wrong.

It takes years for a house to empty out
Because of neglect from all sources. For misfortune, no matter all the life inside.

I imagine this was a yellowbird house so proud to be built.
People, a cat or two, maybe an obedient dog walked in and out
Someone cared enough to put a roof on. It thought complete.

Some people are like empty houses. But, people bleed, they cry, that get torn down by so many things. One thing in common though, houses and people are eventually demolished if no one cares.  Time that waits for no one.

Someone may crash into your car of goods as you exit the fancy box stores that make you think more is better. But then your son collapses at home from an overdose. You had no clue he was on ******, did you? What were you paying attention to?  He dies from brain death. He hadn't even reached 26.

At what was your yellowbird home will now be remembered as the sound you heard of your young son's thump as he hit the bathroom floor as you readied for work.  

Split in half. Someone dies. You didn't plan on being an empty house now today, did you?

So, what will you do about it?

Seek to study, exam life? Rebuild, reprioritize?  It's just time. What have you got to spend? Time the only true currency worth its weight.

Wounded bird,
broken wings,
I cannot,
I no longer know
how to rise.
A shattered dream.

Poor bird,
flightless,
a failure.
Dreams
in a nosedive,
into harsh reality.
Shattered,
crashed
plumage.

All broken,
I dreamed of flight,
and couldn't.
My body
is heavy.
I plunged,
I fell from grace;
I no longer know how to fly.

So much dreaming,
only to land
unwillingly.
And my dreams
have flown away.
I moved my hands,
and saw reality:
I was no angel.

I was no longer a child,
and everything hurt.
I wanted to be better,
but I'm not;
I corrupted myself.
And I was just me,
a poor soul
who flapped
in my dreams,
a loser
in my life,
only disaster.

Consumed
beyond remedy,
I reached the end,
landed on earth,
dreams undone.
Neither angel, nor good,
nor child, just an old man
who never learned to fly.
Hope took flight.

Carlos Alberto Bustillos López
Copyleft

I'm coming back as a tree
I could leave now
For all I care

The tree is an Ash
Sturdily bends in
In the sharpest winter

Breezes blows the boughs
The waves from the Pacific Ocean
Are jealous of her cadence

I'll take my leave now
I've seen all I need to
When you hear the wind look up

I've returned
Rooted, alive, without a care
Let the cages of birds freely fly to me.

Let the flames arise
Miraculous phoenix wings
Burn to where you are
Scorching through the sky of dusk
To the eyes I dream of still.

This is no mere song—
It is spell and incantation,
From a time before
The gods knew their sacred names,
Etched on scrolls of drifting fire.

I cry through the book,
Shouting “I love you” aloud,
My voice looping back,
Carried by mythic echoes
That soar through the centuries.

The wings still shimmer—
Ash to ember, flame to spark—
A fire rekindled
By the longing in your gaze,
A world reformed by your light.

I look through the veil,
This plane between dreams and stars,
Where time bends and folds
Just to cradle our story
On the lips of fate’s own breath.

The elements stir—
Stone, and wave, and thundercloud—
Dancing in your smile,
Each heartbeat awakening
The phoenix’s sacred flight.

This love is not dust—
It is constellation-born,
A map inked in flame
That the heavens dare not touch,
Lest they lose their way to you.

I give all I have,
Even my stars and spirit,
To the one I love—
And if more is ever asked,
I shall give that offering too.

There is no summit,
No horizon too distant,
No fear, no shadow—
For our love is miracle,
The divine thread through all things.

Crossing earth and sky,
I would sail through void and wind,
To paint your laughter
Onto the face of the moon,
Where the gods kneel to your soul.

I believe in us—
In what lies beyond the dark,
In the secret path
That opens when two hands meet,
Even if they cross through storms.

For I saw your eyes—
Two blazing universes
That refused to die,
And I knew that every world
Was born to witness our love.

Let the world collapse—
I will keep your name burning
In each falling star,
Whispering our memory
Into every wind that flies.

This is our true myth—
Where no tragedy may win,
Where love always speaks,
Even when lips are silenced,
Even when stars fall from skies.

Yong, this sacred chant
Rises like prayer and flame,
Song and memory
Looping like enchanted loops
In a theater of stars.

Believe, my beloved—
This poem is still being sung.
No matter how far
You are the spell I repeat,
The salvation I still sing.


The lands shall now bloom—
From frost, the blossoms awaken,
Petals soft as vows,
Spilling from the mountainside
Like a promise kept in pink.

The winds will now sing,
Not of sorrow, but of spring—
A song laced with you,
In every hush of the grass,
In the hush between heartbeats.

Let this be our truth:
Love is our salvation still.
No matter the dark,
Spring returns to all who wait,
And I wait with wings for you.

Once upon a time
there were these two beautiful creatures
A Fish and A Bird.
They met where the water meets the sky
The Horizon!
He waited at the surface
And she circled above.
They reached and touched
but
she couldn’t hold water
and he couldn’t breathe air
So they dreamed..
Dreamed of living in the middle ..
Middle of the sky and ocean
But little did they know
there is no middle between
the sky and the sea ..
so they said goodbye
without saying it and
kept loving from afar, from a distance!