Prayer is Wealth

Prayer is wealth. Often we think of how little we have, how we haven’t arrived or amassed the millions or billions others already have by a certain age. Well it arrives this evening, a different kind of wealth… prayer. Prayer is this untapped resource of wealth often overlooked. But if we just shift our perspective and imagine tonight how all of us have the potential to pray for others, endlessly, because we have the inherent capability to pray, meditate, or keep someone in our thoughts… elevate them in our minds as we dare to connect to the Highest; to have their best interest in heart, to wish them all that is good on this earth. How much more wealthy can we still want to be if we have the power of prayer within our reach?

when the nothingness swallows me
up and waves engulf me inside its
inevitable chasm pushing me down
towards lifelessness, i wish for
one good thought to fish me out of
my drown, one prayer to reach my
hand and rescue me from the cold
waters; restore me to the sanity
and hope that only contemplation
can revive… that prayer is best
when the seed takes root from the heart

Be Yourself

Each one of us is a uniquely programmed human being, the construct of a great Artist. We are God’s masterpieces here on earth, each one with a peculiar design that sets us apart from the rest. Some taught us to repress those inherent characteristics, but it is that which we repress that will set us free. The idea of being ourselves, please take it to heart. Be yourself, own all your talents and flaws because we are like a puzzle, each piece equally important in bringing forth the bigger picture of our true selves.

it is when i make Him smile…
i please, in His vision i try
to obey the truth of my spirit,
let the world possess me for
my talents; this individuality
deserves expression, not shame
nor confinement inside a drawer
where dreams can never shine;
and i shall suffocate altogether,
unable to express what i came
to say in the first place: in
this lifetime… only i am love

To What Purpose

We are lost ones, no doubt.  Without purpose, we roam earth in circles as though in limbo.  In search of purpose, I arrive not at myself, but rather what I can do for others. The reason why nothing works is because I’ve asked the wrong questions about my own direction. Rather than asking what I can do to better myself, I needed to ask what I needed to do to better the world around me. How can I contribute to the universe with my God-given talents? When I removed the focus away from myself, only then did purpose become a little less cloudy.

to what purpose
may i be used?
when readiness
persists upon
days sans rain
or shine; and
drafty rooms
with soot on
windows make
impossible to
diffuse light
from inside. how
can i breach this
shadow hanging
over the world’s
shoulders when it
is only i against
those great beasts
of the night? what
sword must i
brandish to intimidate
fear into submission?
how will i be used
when i stumble
before greatness
and i fall before i
can answer the call?
is it too late or is
this the beginning
of it all?

The Cleanliness is All

The cleanliness is all. In Hamlet, I know, it says “the readiness is all.” But readiness coupled with cleanliness seem to be the perfect combination to upstart one’s spiritual journey. It’s the new year, month 2 into it, and there’s this need to just flush everything that still remains of the last year or maybe the past. It now becomes more important than ever, to shed all that cocoon we’ve hidden ourselves in, because of an urging need to become like butterflies. To morph into the beings we need to be in order to take flight towards the path of a fantastic change. To not be attached because change is constant. And it is the cleanliness, the cleansing that we must participate in, whether physical, emotional or spiritual, which will open us to a new idea that has always been there in front of eyes which coincidentally happens to be the mirror to our truth.

i’ll sweep it all up,
what a mess i am inside
all the clutter, all that
remains of my past, in
between the crevices of
a wall i did not know i
built, but here they
are towering over me,
fencing me up without
sun to see into the day…
in your eyes where i see
more of myself than i do
before this mirror, this
false reflection of hope
i long to break, tear down,
and sweep away if it means
to gather forth the
universe into my heart

Truth

There’s a truth in all of us. This is the one we’re not quite proud of, a persistent thing that won’t disappear even though we’ve hidden it in the farthest and coldest recesses of our minds. We ignore it and yet it creeps in front of us like a contender who adamantly refuses to surrender the fight even though they are beaten and bleeding, broken and smashed beyond recognition. But we recognize it because it is our truth.

At some point, you correlate stagnancy and stillness, which the world has inched around you, with this truth. There’s a point when we exhaust the battle and we give in to accepting this truth. Understanding this truth, embracing it, is probably one of the greatest thing we can do for ourselves because that moment of surrender seems to be the pass to moving forward, for the world to suddenly open up and rejoice in the individual we are meant to be… the truth that one must be.

truth is the indigenous love,
the first occupiers repressed,
forgotten, depressed because
it is primary; and primitive often
castes doubts and distorts the image
in the mirror before me, of who and
what i need to be, instead, my
mission thwarted by reclusivity;
i downplayed the meaning, even
thought impossibility, but the god
inside refuses and stands up for me.
in faith, this occurs naturally;
truth reincarnates out of necessity

poison in my glass

Recently, the word “Flint” has been grabbing my eye. One picture I came across was this grand, white water tower with the word FLINT spelled in black bold letters across it. It is a city in Michigan whose primary water source was switched over to the Flint River, which is more of a toxic dump than river. People persistently complained about the water, its uncanny color, its awful taste, but to no avail… no one believed. And it would be many months down the road when officials will finally listen because experts have found lead in Flint’s water, which courses through the veins of children. And this made me furious and sad at the same time so I chose to reflect on this tragic incident through various poems written in poeticalsounds.com

poetical sounds

investigate into these waters…
it is blue, red and clear on good
days; but good days run low like
toilet paper on the market shelves
and all i’m asking is you take a look
because the water seems not from any
spring or lake i know whose color
sometimes mime faint Tang or Jaritos.
no, this liquid mimics sangria i don’t
want to imbibe for the first time.
the tint arouses suspicion and still
insist it is all fresh from tap.
when yesterday’s pipes have been
gurgling blood and each sanguine drop
fills my mouth… the pain is worth a
scream, but you refuse to hear and i’ve
gone for days without a drink; by now,
thirst taunts me, but what can i do
when there is no alternative but
the orange poison in my glass

View original post

a chance at life

In the end, all we really want is another chance. A second chance to be the person we need to be. Another opportunity to set right the path we need to walk righteously towards affecting the world. Our bodies tell us this, but, at times, we allow barriers to win. However, when we stand long enough and open ourselves to listen to the silence urging us, prodding us towards that direction our compass is leading us to, a chance at this life may just be within our reach.

in that place
i sleep too often—
my sacred space
where i recline
an armchair of embrace

your skin so soft,
so close i can feel every
atom’s frenzy in delight
to be at the helm of
your distinct breath

as this same gladness
leaps at hearing you
exhale warm breezes
into my ear and a world
unfolds of possibility

and the spur of a neuron
touches me, magnetically,
charges me from lifeless
state and resurrect me—
you revive a hundred

deaths from inside me,
deliver me from its
womb and, as though i am
born again, you make
light of me once more

from ashes we rise

It has been a while, I know. Soul searching. It’s natural for writers to do this. Disappear. Vanish from the spaces our medium yields us in order to shed the layer of attachment to become new again. A new year does this to you. It christens me, baptizes me, enlightens me, except this time, I didn’t want to loose that renewal or have me burn out in a month or two without accomplishing even the tiniest of goals. So I ask, how does one stay the course? And the lesson I arrive at is courage. Having courage to push through is a lesson my best friend taught me last night. A friend, who amidst hurt and vulnerability, pushed through with courage, perseverance and great fighting spirit… the tenets she couldn’t recite, but which she demonstrated in front of me despite feeling herself defeated. As difficult as it was to watch, all I could see was my own friend rising from the pain with great courage in order to push through her own obstacle, to remain and finish until the end. Seeing this, seeing her stay the fight within her own ring, made me think of my own courage and how I needed to toughen up like she did in order to stay on my course. To persevere, to rise… to be absolutely courageous.

from ashes we rise,
don’t we?
or do we stay as ashes?
are we then happy to remain
where logs once were before
they were set on fire,
incinerated like illicit
bodies who worshiped
a different god from
you and i?
stand as i
reflect even when i fall
on my knees, even when
it hurts inside, i fight
through the covetous night
and shed this cowardly skin
to show what courage is

for SJP who showed me incredible courage TWD

Believe

Days take their tolls, whether it is the long commute or long days at work which sometimes feel as though we are being pushed further away from ourselves. It feels inescapable like a maze. Then, out of nowhere, I am given a moment when silence blesses me with one word to set me free from the cages of despair. Believe. Believe that there is hope. Believe that everything will work out. Believe in God and that direct line in Faith. Suddenly, this anxiety fades and I don’t feel as though I need to see the final outcome. I just need to believe.

the droll of days,
things we have given up,
the us we surrendered,
are we still whole
or are we holed up
like cheese that
melts under the heat

can we recover,
heal towards forever?
though i know nothing
lasts long, can
i not believe in the
hope for endurance,
what’s left of faith?
can i not see it through
in the long run? because

i believe i can,
i believe you will…
i believe we can

what love gives

Now that the holidays are over, what now? I do miss Christmas though. The spirit of Christmas, that is. I love how giving can somehow break down barriers and open up hearts. But giving shouldn’t just be during the Christmas season. It ought to be everyday, giving, whether it is giving someone comfort, joy, laughter or our “precious” time. A shoulder to lean on, perhaps. Anything is possible. Giving is limitless. Our creativity and sincerity is the only thing that we need to fuel this giving. It all begins with love.

what love gives is not this diamond,
and what is more gold is the gesture
i treasure in each hand crafted measure
inspired by your deepest intention to
wish me joy and happiness, prosperity
and wealth…. no war, but peace can
end chaos and so shall your love endure
what others cannot bear, if you can
rewrap this, i shall receive with all
my heart, your deliberate gift of well-
wishes amply cupped inside your hands