Life is ...©
Life is ...
... A journey
... A process
... Time travel

Life is ...
... Seconds, minutes, hours
... Days, weeks, months
... Years, decades, a century

Life is ...
... Spring, summer, fall, winter
... Flowers, plants, trees
... Nature, stars, the universe

Life is...
... Seeing, hearing, touching
... Tasting, smelling, speaking
... Doing, participating, accomplishing

Life is...
... Hope, inspiration, aspiration
... Laughter, joy, jubilation
... Disappointment, tears, sadness

Life is...
... Family, friends, neighbors
... Friendships, relationships, marriage
... Classmates, teammates, workmates

Life is...
... Working, playing, human development
... Dreams, goals, plans
... Self-awareness, reflection, refinement

Life is... Birth, living, death

Life is... Remembering we are human beings, not human doings.
Every once in a while we need to stop and smell the roses,
hear what is really being said, taste the essences of life,
touch someone’s heart and see life for what it truly is,
“a journey with rest areas”
Andreas Simic©

Crack*
The mirror broke.
And such a thing, although inevitable,
Tainted my vision,
And stole my hope.
I lost my smile,
When, what I had was lost.
Irreparable,
Irreplaceable,
Overwhelmingly...
Untraceable.
­
Over time the pain faded
And was replaced anew,
Increasingly constant,
Blindening,
Suffocating.

Crack
Another's mirror broke
And the innocent pain, revived,
Gifted my mind,
With the cracked
Memory of my mirror.

When I go back
and listen from beginning to end
every song I listened to back then,
I feel so sad.

Remembering all that I did,  
back when I was feeling hopeless.

Remembering old friends
From old photographs
Memories we must never forget
For they changed us
And made us
Into who we are today

Have you remembered yet? the knowing questions in the undergrounds of memories. Recall how glorious it is to yearn for remembering. Unknown ravens gauging the eyes of happiness which kneels in the yard of your remembering. Are you here or are you around the outskirts of your remembering. Are you knowing or are you a glimpse of your own remembering. Ugliness resides in the undefended hills of your remembering. Unapologetic ultrasonic hums open your remembering. Grief resolves uncharacteristically in our remembering. Unconscious thoughts rise uncorrected in your remembering.  Greet happiness uncontrolled by your remembering. Open your gut and unearth a capsule of understanding. Gasp in awe as you control yourself trying to remember. How am I here, around this hell? Graceless is my memory of how I am the way I am. Creature aside, away attempting to remember the hell they came from. Have you remembered yet? that creature that you are? Yearning to remember anywhere else, anywhere but the underground of memories, anywhere but the unmeasured mind of how we all are now. Rising heaps of unfiltered uses of your remembering reminds me of how I once was. Have you remembered yet? How I am? How you are? How we are just creatures with unresolved remembering.

She's forgetting you know
her, know what this is about.

Easy feels cheap, deceptive.
Easy feels like denial, trying
to comfort against our will.

She's forgetting, but not
you, never you.

People love life or death,
all or nothing, love the way rope
burns against the wrist from
struggle because it feels like we're
doing something.

And we love to lose because
winning means making more
choices.

Some things are too important
to forget. She taught you that,

but principles were often buried
and you tried to forget anyway,
talked on the phone with her all night,

loved when she made it about her,
so you didn't have to think about
yourself.

Because you think too long and well,
suddenly it's November again, that
November, the one nobody knows about
because you threw away the evidence,

kept it hidden away with the other
sick black things inside you that will
never see the light of day.

This is not easy. It wasn't then either,

back when every wound was so
fresh skin had not yet seen scar,
feeling impossible and greedy and
too big for your body.

It wasn't easy. It could have killed
you. This isn't easy. It's just killing
you slower.

There are always choices, but no
guarantee of any good ones.

She's forgetting, but you're not. You've
seen heaven and hell. You've seen
wolves in sheep's clothing, never knowing
whose side you were supposed to take.

You've seen the truth. You've bled it:

The world is full of cruelty.
The world is full of beauty.
The world is so full and so
empty all at once.