247. Soar Higher

Into the world my child, she flies…,

Away and soars; but I am scared.

Will she be safe and always wise?

Did I teach her everything,

She needs to touch the skies?

And can I trust the world which I’ve never trusted?

To care for and protect one of my dearest treasures?

World of people through whose acts I am disgusted.

Who poisoned my heart until it broke and rusted.

Yet even I cannot protect,

Her, or him, or I from this life.

Control: an illusion’s inject,

So life we do not from the start reject.

If we thought about how each moment is taken,….

Stolen right in front of our eyes: so we close them;

We’d go crazy or mad, and sickness awaken.

So we say: “Reasons are not godforsaken!”.

Whether there’s meaning to it all,

I know not and I dare not say.

I only know what’s to fear therewithal.

I pray she’ll be able to fly when in fall!

—-praying: “Don’t be like me…., Please don’t end up like me at all!”

K. Aldaya, 8/6/13

Picture: “Tiny Dancer” by insanelaurenjane at Deviant Art; http://www.deviantart.com/art/Tiny-Dancer-352280439

238. Inside My Head

Inside my head.

A couch. A bed.

A world. A dream.

In my head. In my head.

Inside my head.

A girl. A ghost.

One hiding. One host.

In my head. In my head.

Inside my head.

She’s tortured. She’s dead.

Over and over…

In my head. In my head.

Inside my head.

A shadow. A man,

With perverse plan.

In my head. In my head.

Inside my head.

He haunts. He hunts.

He torments. He affronts.

In my head. In my head.

Inside my head.

A blackness. A shape.

A darkness. A rape.

In my head. In my head.

Inside my head.

A demon. A hell.

Fear; despair dwell,

In my head. In my head.

Inside my head.

As I lie down in bed.

Wake to the dread…

In my head…

…..In my head.

K. Aldaya, 04/25/13

Picture: by Gary Heller; http://www.garyhellerphotography.com/album/abandoned-places?p=1#25

211. Beauty

Prescience of quotidian enchantments:

The dreams one dreams ‘fore dawn.

Flowers, stars, sun, and moon,

Would seem form’laic were thee gone.

Thy face illumes the perfunctory tides,

Of apathy…, banality;

For if striven assiduously,

Smiles freely radiate from thee.

Myopically one cannot do much more,

Then love this deb’nair season.

For one dreams, hopes, and loves more,

Near thy beauty past all reason.

K. Aldaya, 2008

145. Freedom to Dream

The birds fly through the trees,

Enriching our eyes with each glimpse.

The freedoms we seek from birth,

Flowing on wings of fair-primps:

Feathers of nature-bound worth.

Whisper your secrets to me on air,

Creaking down stagnant-dreamers:

Trees that reach toward the heavens,

Entreating enchantment-glimmers.

From the sun of divine-leavens.

Float through the halls of Valhalla,

O’ blessed creatures, soar and deliver,

The glory-soaked emancipations,

Of souls of vast times…now a quiver;

On birds with knowledge for all nations.

Freedom’s not a gift or privilege,

Something given to only a few.

Freedom’s what every spirit born,

Through all times and every land through,

Needs to count themselves earth-born.

For just as the sun daily shines,

And the trees reach to catch its’ beams.

The birds, just as us, must seek also,

To live an existence which gleams.

And flying with wings let ago…

As all the souls who’ve come and go,

To find life is a haven of limitless dreams!

K. Aldaya, 6/11/05

Picture: “Soar” by Nomadlens; http://www.nomadlens.com/old/index-showimage=60.php.html

137. Hearts of Hope

I rode by Hope Drive today,

On a day as any day,

Steady on the sought-for path,

Chasing fluid-dreams that below gray clouds hath.

What is it about this land,

Which makes us e’er strive o’er sand?

Shifted by the winds of chance,

On roads we flow on in a lively dance.

Little known about the course,

But for the sun and moons’ source.

Predictable dances danced,

To the flourishing of us: daily entranced.

Bearing caskets of regret,

And pains dug-up from times’ set.

Creaking-timber haunts foots stepped,

Upon aged-stone where progress is oft’ backswept.

Then a season comes to clear,

For a moment trusts seem near.

On a day like any other,

The tired road traveled passes another.

Desires to continue…,

Trust in humans found anew.

“Life is short”, we echo out,

As a brazen bell of funerals devout.

So we drive along our way,

Each and every bloody day,

Stepping on the cracks we’ve made,

On roads we ride on in daily masquerade.

Our footprints cut in the cracks,

Pouring crimson hurts from backs,

Over-burdened with remorse,

From the afflictions of predescended course.

Even with our scarlet feet,

Weeping from our journeys’ seat.

Eyes glisten with the sure sight,

Of a Hope Drive: reminding us of the light!

I rode by Hope Drive today,

On a day as any day,

Steady on lifes’ constant path,

Chasing the hope of dreams which each heart hath.

K. Aldaya, 5/7/05