Secrets, small statues of glass well kept in hidden lockers for they are so easy to break. Secrets that are kept from others cause we are afraid that they will change their minds for us, or we will hurt them.
The reallity is that secrets hurt more than the truth we try to hide beneath them, but the greatest mistake is that we think we'll make our lives better keeping them well guarded.
People make the separation truth or courage when there is no difference. You need courage to speak the truth but even more to hear and accept it.
So truth or lie, light or darkness. It's so discouraging to know that mankind in such dilemma has a proclivity to choose the most self destructive option.
Like the fish in the water we are, swimming between nets. Other visible and other not. We can get trapped in them but not for a lifetime, cause we insist to forget that we weave them and unlike fish we could break loose whenever we want.

Use your words
To uplift and empower
Be the motivating force
With a lightning source
Encourage others
To give it their best
Strive for excellence
And endure success

Tried to fulfil
the caverns in my eyes,
sleepless nights that echo
the chamber of creativity.

So much to do,
so much to do.

So many symbols to contrive
so that when I die,
I do not leave.

When did this ridiculous past-time
become a reason to be?

There is more truth in the flute
than a lover's tongue,
more heart in the metre
of well-formed words
than there is to belong
to any God or anyone.

Tried to fulfil
the hunger for movement;
restless flicker-book
that rearranges
the same old routine
of skipped pages
and human error

into art and reason.

Wine
Is
Fine
When you
Dine
With
Fine Wine
But when you
Dine
With
Fine Wine
The
Wine
Must be
Fine

.

Here lies a poem,
once a thing of beauty  
flowing with love and desire,
inspired by affectionate dreams,
adored by many for the feelings
it contained for another within,
now nothing more than
irrelevant thoughts and words,
lifeless phrases and stanzas,
weakened and aging verses of
mid-sentence fractures
overtaken by youthfulness
as it seeps deeply
into the void . . . forgotten

Here lies a poem
that is far too old
for its own good

In the vortex
of my mind
      under layers
            of consciousness
something is opening
within me
like a reverse arc
            going deep
                into other landscapes    
                      kaleidoscopic spheres
                                              swirling                  
                            in new development
and I am holding onto
my living room chair
as a slow tornado
whirls around me,
new wisdom filling me up
in whisperings
unable to be heard
          to the naked human ear    
sacred utterings
beyond definition,
beyond the realms
                   of fear  
Seeds of knowledge
that burst through
old patterns,
a force that defies
All I have been
working towards
striving to rise    
pushing through debris
exploding, gently,
to the surface
   a coolness emerging
to soothe this burning
                          furnace
causing my secret
desert spaces
           to evolve
into green-covered
dense jungle waxed
exotic flowers
so tiny and so large
they look like caricatures
(but they're real)
and I had no idea
this was part of the deal
I stare in wonder
at the plants
and creatures
I have yet
to name
wildernesses
that preferably
must stay
         untamed

And into this clearing
       they venture
shyly, daring to emerge
from the dense,
intense forest,
all negativity
                      to purge
to eat from
           my fingers,
waiting for my
            primeval blessing
These sweet, feral creatures
I wish for each
and every one
to bestow upon me
their grace,
bless me in turn
as I stroke their face
they  almost seem
                   to glow
                    in their            
primordial powers
and let me
anoint their brows,
my hands grazing soft
and rougher patches
of fur, of reptilian skin
predator and prey
joining as one within
They come
to meet me today
to partake in my strength
They bestow me
with their
indigenous, glowing
           earthiness
written indelibly
inside their eyes
their innocent power
flowing, balanced
          between cloudy and clear skies
and as I gaze
directly into
the naked horizon,
            tornados ceased
I feel that something
             akin to…
                         peace
I am blessed in its
          rivulet, immersed in its stream
and I know I am
on my path to an
ever-sacred
           dream