Advice for the Weary Soul
When the weight of the world presses against your chest, and the nights stretch longer than the days, find solace in the quiet moments, the whispers of dawn breaking through the dark.
Do not chase after perfection; it is a mirage that leaves you parched and wanting. Instead, seek the beauty in the flaws, the cracks where the light seeps in and heals.
Love fiercely but let go when it’s time, for holding on too tight can break what’s meant to soar. Embrace the shadows within, for they are part of the tapestry that makes you whole.
Walk barefoot on the earth, feel the pulse of life beneath your feet. Let the rain kiss your face, and the wind carry away your sorrows.
In the silence, hear your own heartbeat, a reminder that you are alive, resilient, and enough. Find peace in the chaos, and know that even in the storm, there is calm within.
Remember, you are a work in progress, a masterpiece unfolding with each breath. Be gentle with yourself, for you are deserving of all the love you so freely give.
You Cannot Save Everyone
You cannot win against someone who has nothing to lose.
Sound cannot travel in the vacuum of space.
Screams mean nothing to a person with no ears.
Tears mean nothing to a person with no eyes.
Nights spent awake mean nothing to a person with one foot in their grave.
A malnourished body will still perish if force-fed.
A caterpillar will no more quickly turn to a butterfly
If you clip another's' wings.
Someone who is ill will no more quickly heal
If you expose yourself to an illness as well.
Sometimes, love is parasitic.
You cannot drive if you are running on empty.
Risk does not always equal reward.
If you are tired, you should take a break.
Some people are not always healthy to be around.
The loss of a friendship will hurt.
The loss of a friends life will hurt more.
Do not intertwine yourself in others' demons.
Echoes of Persistence
Seize this song called life,
Choose to hold it fast against
The reverberating lyrics
Within your mist.
Clasp it to your soul
Never relinquishing your hold,
Move with delicate abandon
To shape the force of reality’s mold.
This life you may treasure
Cannot escape your realm
If you but bind it tightly,
Steadfastly to your helm.
Choose growth and pure existence
Over each day’s trivial death
By choosing echoes of persistence,
Whispered in your every breath.
Seize this beauteous thing called life
You’re given as a wondrous gift,
Soar through the skies, enjoy simple days
For you see, time will pass too swift.
Ask Mabel
My online inbox overflows.
Snail mail covers my table.
Everybody wants my opinion,
so, they write to “Ask Mabel.”
Should I dump him or hug him?
Mabel, is she stringing me along?
Does the fork go on the right or left?
Tell me, Mabel, am I right or wrong?
Dear Mabel this, Dear Mabel that;
this advice columnist gig is crazy
for a 50-year-old chain smoker;
but my public pic is young and sexy.
Oh dear, here’s another one from her.
Once a week this Boston woman writes
she can’t find love and is beset by fears,
asking, “Mabel, what is your advice?”
She is deathly afraid of being an old maid,
so, I’ve told her to find hobbies, to ease up,
to not overthink, to give her plants a drink,
and for company, I told her to get a pup.
But here she is yet again, writing,
“Dear Mabel, I met a nice man from Ohio
at a paper airplane hobby convention
But he said, ‘You smell, and I gotta go.’
“Oh, Mabel, what if he was the ONE?
And that’s not all. My plants drowned
and my pup ran away. What do I do?”
Signed, “Lonely in Beantown.”
For the umpteenth time I begin
my reply, typing, “Dear Lonely,”
but I pause for a light bulb moment,
and I craft advice to help her and me.
I continue, “First, take a nice shower,
then, forget the pup and plants, and prepare
to move to Ohio to pursue your dreamboat
and write to the advice columnist there."
The Woman Within
She's there within you.
A cloud floating by, a petal in the stream.
You'll miss her if you aren't careful.
But, if you're looking up, or peering down,
You might just catch a glimpse.
When you feel her peak out, hold on.
I feel her when my motherly instinct kicks in.
I feel her when I cook, as I measure each ingredient with my heart.
I feel her when I'm kind, when I'm humble.
I feel her when I learn.
She is the woman I've always wanted to be.
She is me, if I can only catch up to her.
I chase after each cloud, and try to grasp each petal in the stream.
