Crushed

What?

A wave of emotion surges up his body.

He trembles, forgets how to breathe.

Passion, Confusion

Frustration, Irritation

How did he not see it before?

It was too soon.

He had rushed.

Dread, Panic

Terror, Rage

Wait. Why?

It was not an error.

There is still time.

But once it finds something to grasp,

the heart does not easily let go. 

Young Hearts

Last week, it so happened I was playing the violin.

Nothing nearby to remind me of you.

Then, out of the clear blue sky, you popped into my thoughts.

I never would have guessed it then,

That you would be so important to me

That you had shaped me

That you had the keys, and had kept me locked in.

Why, only just now, I was enjoying a delicious chocolate cookie

Then, hello, my dear friend, you appeared once again.

I wonder, could it be that you feel the same way?

But, sometimes, it is better to keep things as they are,

Than to peel off the bandage and cut the wound deeper. 

For a little over a week during winter break, I went to Cancun and Mexico City, where I visited many pyramids.

The Culture of the Pyramids

Lives sacrificed for the heavens,

Death is a reward for warriors.

Hearts stabbed open to drink their blood,

Love for gods is greater than love for one another.

Bodies adorned with jewelry to be rich in beauty,  

Bones and obsidian used as weapons in war.

Dentistry and brain surgery advanced for its age,

Calendars more accurate than our own.

Jaguars, snakes, and monkeys worshipped as mysterious spirits.

Now, surrounded by sandy wind, people still praise to the sun at the top of the pyramid.  

Perfection, or not

An idea forms in my mind.

It seems flawless as I think it through, and I can’t believe how I didn’t think of it before. The concept is simple, I only need a few minutes to prepare everything I need.

I start to get everything together, to create what is in my mind.

But this isn’t how I thought it would be. My idea is full of faults, its imperfections show up one by one. I try to fix it. It can’t be fixed.

Frustration overcomes me, I want to stop, want to quit. I shouldn’t have started it in the first place. What a waste of time.

But I can’t give up. Maybe it’s not what I wanted it to be, but I can make it something else. Something original, something that will make people wonder.

The end result might not be perfect, but the process of creation and enjoying the moment, that is all that matters. Or at least I hope so.

This too shall pass

A few months ago, my dad asked me to guess of a phrase that could encourage men in hard times, but also make them humble in fortunate times. I thought for a few minutes, but had no idea how to answer him. I finally gave up, and asked him to tell me what the phrase was. He then told me that he had read in an article about King Solomon asking a group of wise men to give him a ring that would make him happy in sad times, and sad in happy times. The wise men gave him a simple ring with the words “This too shall pass” etched on it.

After hearing this, I was amazed at how true the simple phrase was. No matter how tough times get, they eventually pass. No matter how high up a person is, there will come a time when he falls. There are times when I am sad because of something that happened at school, but as time goes by, it loses importance. When something good happens, I become happy and feel like nothing bad could happen, but it does. That is life, and the pattern will always continue.  

While some of my friends can't wait to get older, I sometimes think about going back to infancy.

Time Only Goes Forward

I wish I could go back,

Back to those careless days.

Back to when I didn’t know about such things

Like betrayal, lies, and deception.

Back to when I didn’t know how painful it could be,

How much hurt I would have to go through.

Back to when I didn’t know about loss or destruction.

Back to when the problem would go away if I ran into my mother’s arms.    

They say ignorance is bliss, and I see how it couldn’t be more true.

Oh, how wonderful it would be

If I could go back,

Back to when I didn’t know.

I wrote this poem while thinking about the times I get frustrated when people act like they know more about me than I do.

A Friend Should Know

You don’t know me.

I’m not who you say I am.

I’m sorry, maybe I should be more clear.

I told you the truth, but you don’t believe me.

You act as if I’m trying to hide something from you.

I don’t know how I could be more frank, since no matter how hard I try to make you understand,

You just don’t get it.

There’s nothing mysterious about it; the facts are all right there.

Don’t waste your time trying to find what doesn’t exist.

You talk to me like you know everything about me.

Stating what seems like facts when it’s nothing more but your opinions or guesses.

I have a voice, and it doesn’t speak through you.

Maybe you should try asking me how I feel, instead of making up my answers for me.

You don’t know me.