Life,
built and driven by dreams,
compelled by needs,
conquered through opportunity,
sustained by dedication,
longed for by desire.

Desire, which drives dreams,
with the folly of burying them
in the present routine
and in superior external decisions.

This partner desire, divided,
by indecision and power,
by wanting and duty:
yields and withers.

Surrendering to destiny and fate,
woven into the horizon,
blind to the present,
credited to the past,
premises of the future,
entangled in possibilities
irreverent to the central,
present, and adjacent conditions:
of life, like metamorphosis,
mutable, unavoidable, and relentless.

Faced with assumptions and
eventualities,
is what’s meant to be, to be?
Perhaps, in the undulations of the search
for the fleeting existence.

a sense of desertion
combined with
a sense of purpose
is a lethal combination;
false, or true.

a gust of wind sweeping through
an abandoned campfire,
in the right direction
(𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦)
will take down the
entire forest.

Daredevil laid dead
Dialed aid, leave dread
Viral liar lived idle
Vile drivel, aired live.

Evil idea, veiled lie
Real Reel, diva died
Dire dealer, ever realer
Revived, live, revived, dead
Revealed vivid red.

Redial, aid evaded arrival—
DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE!!
Evil deed, via viral
Reel, red river.

Imagine the world smooth and polished
Imagine the world skimming water
Imagine the worlds ripples on the water
Imagine the world that is smooth, polished and skimming is you
Now imagine that the smooth polished skimming world that is you suddenly drops with a splash 💦

Years of being bullied
Being called all sorts of
Of names
Getting in all sorts of fights
Pulling all sorts of pranks
On my torturers
The grim *******
Alex, Karen and jennifer
Has nearly lead to
Me dead on day
In Guantanamo Bay
I wish I lie
But that was what I was threatened
With
Given the choice of life or death
I chose life and became a yakuza
It was only for my only safety
But I learned some lessons on the way
The hard way

I’ve climbed the peaks of my ambitions,
Gathered medals, built traditions,
Each step forward marked with pride,
Yet something stirs, unfulfilled inside.

The paths I’ve walked, they glimmered gold,
Stories of growth and journeys bold,
But as I stand and take a view,
I wonder—was this path mine to pursue?

The roads ahead stretch vast, unknown,
Some feel foreign, some feel home,
Yet none whisper, This is the way,
They tease the question I ask each day.

Am I the architect of my dreams?
Or just a player in someone’s scheme?
I’ve built, I’ve grown, I’ve reached, I’ve tried,
Yet the spark of purpose hides inside.

Success is hollow when roots aren’t deep,
And growth feels shallow when dreams don’t keep,
But in this fog, a truth unfolds:
The answers lie in the soul I hold.

So I’ll pause the rush, the endless chase,
Sit with myself in this still, quiet space,
Listen to whispers of passion’s fire,
To rediscover what I truly desire.

For purpose isn’t in paths pre-paved,
It’s carved where courage meets hearts unscathed,
And though I wander, uncertain, unclear,
I trust the compass I hold right here.

I may not know which way to steer,
But each step forward conquers fear,
And in the journey, I’ll find my part—
For purpose is born from the seeking heart.

Alone I stand barefoot on a floor of broken glass.
Two doors across the way in front of me.
One door leads to my salvation, the other quite possibly damnation.
Though neither door is marked, it's true they are unremarkably the same
The choice for me remains all too clear.
Smooth glass on the left, sharp and twisted to the right
I take a breath and step upon the path, blood pouring from my feet.
The pain is somehow sweet, for I see the blood of others gone before.
Persistence in spite of pain brings life's greatest gains, and I smile as light floods through the opening door.
I took the path less traveled as old man Frost would surely agree, and that less traveled path has made all the difference in me.