The river only reflects a mute scene
for it does not hear the crackle of flames,
nor the screams being choked on by smoke
while tree limbs crash down in a heated blaze
because it can only observe this sight
and feel like it is useless against a
fiery beast.

I hear you say her full name and know of the beautiful potential of the two of you, so I let go you go and watch you fall in love.

I use the word no
As a tool
Of self-empowerment
Saying it
Just to stand strong
Not giving in
Setting boundaries
Where I please
Allowing myself to consider
I realize that I
Have options beyond measure
No reason to settle
My standards don't
Seem so high
Since I've learned to treasure
Myself
I make things
On my own terms
Why set limits

Your love is like a still birth, so much hope, with so much disappointment and despair. When you see what it really is, something beautiful destroyed, You will never get the memory from your mind.Something you will always remember. Something you can still see the potential in, but the thought just bring sorrow. such excruciating pain  you can not help to replay in your head. No ambivalence, Prolific strain on your existence. wishing you still had, and yet hoping it never existed

It's funny how people see us,
for all that we never were.
All our blunders seem to define us,
as if that's all we ever were.

They see lost potential,
Grieving, that I've lost my only way.
All the things that I could've been,
if only I hadn't been led astray.

They say I lost my way,
I got pulled away by the tide.
Yet I reply smiling gratefully,
my head held up by all my pride:

I lost my way ,
Oh yes, I did,
I lost my way and found it back,
time and time again.
But once, I lost it forever,
I finally found myself.

Damp wood
sizzles;
Dry wood
explodes.
Smoke or fire?
To discover
which you
contain,
you must risk
the flames.
  - mce

Let me tell you something.
Something which may seem
Difficult to digest
Or counter-intuitive.
Your enemies are your best friends.
You must be wondering
What the hell?
But seriously your enemies are your best friends.
No one helps you more than your enemies.
They think of you better than anyone.  
By being on lookout for
Your slips and weaknesses,
They always keep you focused-
Always at your toes.
They help your realize your true potential.
They bring out the best of you.
They never let you dawdle.
They never deceive you
Or blandish you.
They reveal your loyalties.
Above all
Nothing beats the pleasure of
Beating your enemies.
Don’t all these make them your best friends?

I'm not the fan of birthdays.
With them comes wrapping paper,
confetti, and cake...
and reminders of daunting ideas pushed aside.

Reminders of all the things I have yet to do,
and the terrifying idea that I am not immortal.
I will not last forever, here.

I am sculpting myself into a person,
of which I am only partially fond.
And with each passing hour, day and year,
I am reminded of the quickly hardening clay
of this sculpture that is me.

My hands rush to pick up the pace,
as I solidify  before my eyes.
My work becomes sloppy,
my hands become ragged,
my movements--
previously so natural and unconscious--
become frantic and desperate
as I become increasingly aware of my potential
slowly falling away,
with each missed moment.,
each birthday candle,
each tick of a clock.

So here I am on the floor.
Looking up at my  sculpture.
Face, hands, hair covered in drying clay.
I am left not with the question can I do it,
no,
simply will I do it?

Will I allow myself to be that change,
to make my mark,
to empower, create, and grow.
Will I let myself me powerful beyond measure?

So,
happiest birthday to this little soul,
so small and fragile.
With so much to give,
and so much to take.
And with only so many breaths left,
to get it all done.