Forever Creating

A crystal dewdrop twinkles in the sun
A little furry spider weaves his web.
He’s intertwining, overlapping; spins
and spins to make, to shape, and to create
a simple work of tranquil beauty. He’s

just like the painter with his brush in hand
and a white canvas before him, he will
create when inspiration strikes, but for
now, he will simply watch, observe the light
that dances on the haystacks, that plays in
your eyes, that surrounds you with warmth, the light
embraces nature with its touch. He smiles
and paints with pastel colors, gently, he
puts vivid images, visions from his
mind on to canvas. How serene, a work
of art. He paints and paints from day to night,
just watching the waves, the stars, the life that
goes by. He sees, he paints, and he creates.

Just like the writer with his special quill
pen, who puts words on paper, which brings things
to life. He writes and writes from dawn to dusk
of people, places, and weird events. He
shares heartfelt emotions, his joy and pain,
his dreams and hopes. He shares his fantasies;
he beckons words to come alive. He writes,
he types, he makes, he shapes, and he creates
through time and space, eternal, just like God.

forever creating
– Images taken from Google

Perfectly Imperfect

Is there something that you’ve always wanted to do, but something beyond your control was holding you back?  I recently went on a camping trip that included an 8 mile hike, and I realized how annoyed and frustrated I was.  I have these crazy, finicky knees that like to buckle and twist whenever it makes any sort of unexpected impact.  Once they twist, the knees, of course, become swollen.  Because of this issue, I cannot run or do intense sports because I can easily hurt myself.  I can go hiking on flat trails and hike uphill, but when I go downhill, I have to be extra careful and watch every single step that I take to avoid any rocks or twigs that can cause an “unexpected impact.”  It’s very frustrating because I have to hike downhill very slowly.  Instead of getting tired from physical exertion, I get tired from physically concentrating on watching my step.  To top it off, I always feel bad when someone stays behind to wait for me, when I know they prefer to go at a faster pace.

However, with all that said, I realized something.  There’s a difference between accepting a fact and giving up and accepting a fact and making improvements.  I know that I can do better than that, so I will strive for it.  I know that I will never be as athletic as a normal person, but I can be the best ME possible, and that’s enough.  I set my own goals and I reach for them.

Here is a poem I wrote a while back that really describes my perfectly imperfect knees.


Perfectly Imperfect

A loose carpet, a crack in the street
and KABAM, she falls –
bleeding internally, she grins
like nothing has happened
because it has happened
so many times before
and will …
many times more.

Her sorrow
no one truly understands
as she tries to do
all that everyone else can.
Staying healthy, staying happy,
concealing her knees
behind jeans and skirts,
perfecting the imperfect limp
and bearing it all,
smiling like a doll

as she lies on the floor,
and stares at the ceiling.
It’s a different state of mind,
a different state of being.
With her legs propped up,
stiff as a stick,
swollen and heavy,
she thinks to herself,
what a wonderful life …

if she could run
like the wind
and be MVP,
but knees don’t heal

To be normal,
to be all that she is
and wants to be,
she puts on her braces
and smiles once more
for now she is normal,
somewhat …
as she cries inside,
nobody knows
because nobody’s

My Brush with Beauty

I am but an element
in nature’s canvas,
a mere splash of paint,
compared to the fire bird
looming above me.
Its orange wisps
breathing energy
into the sky.

I see a beak,
perfectly defined,
connecting to
a textured chest
of feathered clumps
that dissipate
into the sky,
spreading wispy wings
and a fiery tail.

A life force of energy
weaving above me,
orange, pink, white
breaking into
the blue, blue sky.

the fire bird soars
through shadows
and silhouettes,
beyond houses and trees,
through mountains
to the horizon,
passed you and me.

The fire bird lives on
forever through time,
captured on
the canvas
of my mind.