Empty Spaces

I began a complex puzzle the day that I was born,
The macro image unraveling as the years went on.
Personal triumphs and successes revealing segments of the whole,
While challenges and obstacles waged a war on my soul.
Fragments emerged over time that ultimately did not fit,
Yet my heart clung to the possibility, the menacing “what if”.
Empty spaces cannot be filled with things that are innately hollow,
We must take a breath, soldier on, and bear the pain of letting go.
Like a nomad in the desert searching for an oasis,
I too sought refuge in unfamiliar places.
Pieces of my identity scattered across time and space,
A journey towards self-discovery that can never be replaced.
Life is an unpredictable sequence of highs and lows,
Our reaction to these phases determines how it goes.
Carry on I must, until my puzzle becomes clear,
Completed by those final pieces, I continue to hold dear.

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Port Dreams

Bare feet imprint destinies upon ever changing sands,
Gazing eyes scan the horizon imagining untouched lands.
Hearts race to the rhythm of waves crashing on shore,
Moist hands clasp the charted course,  adventure is in store.

Virgin travellers evoke sighs of fear as sails lift into the sky,
The comforts of home foregone, oblivion their new ally.
Veteran voyagers eager to embrace the rumbling of the sea,
Their spirits high in paradise, longing to be free.

Conflicting emotions permeate the air converging into one,
Blending with melodic precision on a unilateral mission.
Explorers en masse overshadowing preconceived fear,
Gracefully gliding through currents, a destination unclear.

Dreams of Utopia

Blue hues erupt above cotton candy clouds,
Green rolling hills havens for those thinking aloud.
Ideas permeate the air like smoke from a chimney,
One puff destructive, while another is an epiphany.
Hearts consumed with dreams of a better tomorrow,
One free of injustice, lives free of sorrow.
Eyes tinkle at images of utopia in fast forward,
Where the character of man supersedes the outward.
A world in which love is blind and hate is mute,
Where understanding and compromise solve every dispute.
Where wars are historical events fading from memory,
Poverty and discrimination not an ever present reality.
Hands clasped under moons turning to faith,
For a day when one’s birth doesn’t determine their place.
Yet in this present the struggle still continues,
Each small act of kindness unravelling the truth.

Metamorphosis

I struggle to be present.
To give all of me in every moment, completely exposed,
Bottled up emotions ready to implode,
Censored speech and actions, concerned with repercussions,
Lost in my life, a drop in an ocean.

Not sure who I am, and what is it that I love,
Often forgetting my soul, and my Lord up above,
Yearning to break free from the shackles of fear,
Always myself, not just with those I hold dear.

Like a child in a womb, embraced by its mother,
I long to find the me inside myself,
To live each moment as though it was my last,
To pray for my future, and learn from my past.

So I struggle.
Fighting the resistance controlling my head,
Searching for me amongst the chaos instead,
Finding solace in God, the One who knows me best,
To be present. That is my test.