Books are fuel to the imagination.

Works of fiction pour into my mind,
hours at a time.

I feel the power rise,
as I climb through expositions.

Looking down,
I see the world in the palm of my hand.

Looking up,
I see my face amongst the clouds.

On this high I craft my own words,
some spoken and others in ink.

And as I fall,
I ponder the time until my return.

I did not write as much
not because I don't care or because
it did not have an impact on me

just because I've been escaping and avoiding
instead of writing and feeling.

Sometimes I feel they don't want to see me.
Sometimes I feel they don't want to see me around them.
Sometimes I feel I need more light even I just have a little.
Sometimes I need the way I can see myself even when I always get lost in many darkness.
Sometimes I feel  I am bad when I am doing something and they want me to be perfect one.
Sometimes I feel I always do wrong.
And
Why?
Sometimes,
I write
and cry
and also pray.

Today is the day
Guess I might as well write this
Happy Haiku Day

You hear the thud.
Put on your dressing gown, rub your eyes.
And wearily approach the door, wondering what it could be.
Another bill, another promotion in a cunning disguise?

But there it is, dressed elegantly in plain white,
With the stamp placed perfectly on the right.
You see the swirls in the handwriting,
The way they flick the k’s and how they curl their c’s.

You try to guess who sent this wonderful surprise
You pick it up with care and, for an instant, freeze
Then you abandon all restraint, and rip it apart
Desperate to read what’s at its heart.

It takes thought and love to write.
In a world full of texts, facetimes and calls.
A letter hits the spot just right.

A short story, addressed to you
And only you
A little piece of history lies in your hand
Keep these letters

Store them safely away
For they will fill your heart with joy
When you re-read them on a melancholy day
Next time you are at a loss  for something to do
I beg of you, put down that phone
Take out a pen and write a letter or two.

Be still and write.
Let the fire in you become wildfire as your worries enfolds you.
Create words as if the last sentence you will produce will create greatness.
Stand firmly as the darkness slowly creeps,
let light shine upon you as you pray to the almighty however you may perceive him to be.

Walk as if the adventure will be the destination,
Run as you go unknowingly to tomorrow.

Smile as you find the peace of your mind,
laugh as you greet your heart with euphoria.

Treat people as if kindness is our only virtue,
dedicate actions thru affections.

Plant your feet into the ground,
carry each other's weight with great care.
Feel not of heroism,
but instead be heedfully compassionate.

Write like the sunset will be the last you will see today.
Give life chances as it surprises you with grace.