414. You Do Not Have to Die

I didn’t want to die when I swallowed all those pills.

I didn’t want to die when I climbed those lofty hills.

I didn’t want to die when I tied that rope on tight.

I didn’t want to die when I climbed that towers’ height.

I didn’t want to die when I loaded that old gun.

I didn’t want to die, yet what is done, is done.

I swallowed all those pills, and climbed those lofty hills;

And tied that rope on tight, and jumped off from that height.

And I loaded that old gun, for there wasn’t anyone,…to say:

“You do not have to die! It doesn’t have to be this way.”

I see you there with all those pills. I see you climbing hills.

I see that you purchased that rope and have no sense of hope.

I see that you are walking up the stairs to the top.

I see that gun, “Put it down. Put it down. Stop!”

You do not have to die, my friend.

This should not be your end.

I see you. I see you…and all that pain within you.

Please put down those pills, and walk beyond those hills.

Unknot that rope. There’s still hope. There’s still hope!

Lay down that gun, and in the morn we’ll watch the sun,…

As it peeks o’er the line ‘tween night and day,

We’ll sit and watch the start of another earthly day;

And laugh, and cry, and hope together,

Under the ethereal clouds we gather,…

And fashion into dreams.

K. Aldaya, 10/4/17

Picture: https://www.wallpaperflare.com/brown-rocky-mountain-during-sunrise-photo-rophaien-wallpaper-17362

413. Tempus Edax Rerum

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Time devours all things,

And life leads but to death,

Yet in your arms a lifetime’s…

Inhaled, in one breath.

Time devours all things,

And we are but one course,

Yet in one kiss, the soul…

Returns to it’s true source.

Time devours all things;

It’s flow is definite.

Ticking on forever…

So we make use of it.

Here.

Now.

Our love is infinite.

K. Aldaya, 8/30/17

Picture: Original Artist Unknown; http://weheartit.com/entry/24111142; http://littlepawz.tumblr.com/post/18572611002/love-is-the-enchanted-dawn-of-every-heart

412. In the Horizon

Pacific_Sunset_Pismo_Beach_California

Tangerine-seas quench my day-parched soul,

With the hope that maybe tomorrow,

Will find it new and whole.

As the sun descends and light fades out,

I inhale deeply of it’s sweetness,

And expunge any doubt.

For the night is coming…time to sleep,

And dream of new, better tomorrows,

Yet, first I’ll drink and weep,

For the yesterday which burns away…

In the horizon.

K. Aldaya, 8/25/17

Picture: http://wallpaperweb.org/wallpaper/nature/pacific-sunset-pismo-beach-california_40871.htm

408. Where is Hope?

Hope-May Spring went outside to sing,

And play among the flowers.

Her days were spent frolicking,

And dancing ‘way the hours,

In the sun.

One day she walked upon the stage,

To sing her song aloud.

She stepped bravely across the stage,

And sang out strong and proud:

Joyously.

Applause rang out through the room,

And Hope-May was o’erjoyed,

To have touched hearts within that room,

Her smile could not avoid…

Joining in.

Joy can’t last forever though,

And no story is so kind,

For as soon as it was time to go,

Her mother voiced her mind:

“Not the worst”.

Strangers praised her performance,

Yet her mother looked on sternly.

Her songs could never seem to dance,

Their way in mother’s heart to free…

Approval.

Through the years she heard no praise;

Nor laud. Nor compliment.

And soon she felt her mother’s gaze,

Was always there and sent…

Shivers down.

Ah, that voice was always there.

Always echoing: “Never enough!”,

Until the joy she used to share,

Sang out soft and gruff;

And empty.

Her joy, her mother ate it all;

Served with criticism and jeers.

Hope-May ate the meals all,

And swallowed down her tears…

In silence.

Hope-May Spring used to sing.

It’s said she sang quite well;

Though now she does not like to sing,

Nor does she ever tell…

Of her heart.

Though sometimes she dreams secretly,

Of those days so long ago,

When her heart was given joyously,

And hope could freely flow;

From her veins.

Hope-May Spring will sometimes sing,

And smile vacantly;

Though if you listen to her sing,

You’ll hear a sad and desperate plea:

“Where is Hope?”.

K. Aldaya, 7/13/17

402. Wildflowers

In the house upon the hill,

Where the wildflowers bloom;

There upon that hill,

Floats a murky gloom,

Stifling human will,

In the presence of swift doom.

In the house resides,

A world unto its’ own,

Where each man goes and hides,

Their every sigh and moan,

Away from judging eyes;

And that piercing undertone.

Can’t you hear it ringing?

Ringing, day and night…

Like a bee which keeps on stinging,

And causes lasting fright;

Through the air it’s winging,

Bearing pains no man can right.

Seek the house upon the hill,

Gray and worn with age,

For there upon that hill,

Is a safe and lasting cage,

Where you may hide until,

You lose the pain and outrage.

The inside walls are white and cold,

Lacking empathy or affection,

And once inside it takes a-hold;

Your soul feels deep rejection,…

Though as you will be told,

“It’s all for your own protection!”

In the house upon the hill,

The wildflowers are in bloom,

And are much too wild in will,

So confined to their room,

And told they must hold still,

Or growth will be their doom.

For flowers have a way,

Of drawing bees and such,

And when they bloom one day,

They draw abuse and touch;

The only other way,

Is to never live too much.

Hide in the house on the hill,

Where wildflowers bloom;

For there upon that hill,

They will lock you in your room,

And take away your free will,

‘Til the day you’re placed in the tomb.

K. Aldaya, 6/26/17

*For all those whose beauty was locked away in this life. RIP.

Picture: http://www.wildlifephotographytips.com/black-and-white-flower-photography.html