Tag: hope

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The Covenant with the Earth

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A nation stands upon the soil as a child upon the shoulders of a giant. The soil, rich and teeming with life, is the foundation upon which civilizations are built, the canvas upon which history is painted. Yet, when a nation turns against its own soil, it sows the seeds of its own demise. It is a self-inflicted wound, a betrayal of the very ground that sustains it. Forests, the majestic lungs of our land, breathe life into our world. They stand as silent sentinels, purifying the air with each rustling leaf and each whispered breeze. They are the alchemists … Continue reading The Covenant with the Earth

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Our Spirit Is Childlike Regardless of Years

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Our spirit, that intangible flame within, defies the chains of time. It dances, ageless and unyielding, across the years. Like a playful sunbeam, it weaves through the fabric of our existence, igniting wonder in the crevices of our hearts. Childlike, it remains—curious eyes that seek the magic in dew-kissed mornings, unfettered laughter that echoes through meadows, and innocence that knows no cynicism. The years may etch lines upon our skin, but the spirit, oh, the spirit remains untamed. In the twilight of life, when the sun dips low, our spirit still skips, hand in hand with memories. It collects pebbles … Continue reading Our Spirit Is Childlike Regardless of Years

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It is not easy!

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Life, in its rawest form, is a tapestry woven with threads of trials and triumphs. It’s not easy, this intricate dance of existence. No, it’s a relentless ballet, where each step is earned, not given. Simplicity is a myth, a siren’s call that leads only to the shores of complacency. For nothing of value comes without its price—no joy without sacrifice, no victory without scraped knees and hearts worn thin. In this grand narrative, there are no scripted fairy tales, no predestined heroes to save the day. Instead, there are people—flesh and blood, with dreams as vast as the sky … Continue reading It is not easy!

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Yearning for My 30s

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I find myself yearning for the days of yore, for the vigor of my 30s, when the world seemed full of possibilities, ripe for change. It was a time when my heart was ablaze with the fire of ambition, and my arms strong enough to bear the weight of dreams. I long for that relentless drive, that insatiable desire to sculpt the very essence of the world, to leave an indelible mark upon the sands of time. I wish to recapture that fearless spirit, to stand once again tall against the gales of doubt, unflinching in the face of adversity. … Continue reading Yearning for My 30s

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Ink and Veins

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Before I began to write poetry, I dissected song lyrics like a curious surgeon. Each syllable, each note—my scalpel. I sought the marrow of meaning, the pulse beneath the melody. My red spiral notebook, a confessional, cradled their verses. Milton Nascimento, Tom Jobim and Chico Buarque—maestros of language. Their words, like benevolent ghosts, whispered secrets across the pages. But oh, how they sat there, perched on the paper, their hearts masquerading as eyes. Big, bubbly letters, innocent as children, yet they knew not their own power. I absorbed them, these syllables, these notes. They seeped under my skin, mingling with … Continue reading Ink and Veins

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Embracing Life’s Journey

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In the quietude of my darkest hours, let me be the mirror that unwaveringly reflects the depths of my soul, and the echo that resounds with the truths I’ve whispered to the night. As the world slumbers, teach me the art of self-acceptance, to find peace in the liminal space where seeds of hope gestate and await the harvest of tomorrow. Grant me the gift of days yet to dawn, where I may weave threads of compassion missed in today’s tapestry, mending the fabric of a heart that faltered in its purpose. Confront me with the visage of my own … Continue reading Embracing Life’s Journey

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Transient Echoes

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In this brief existence, we are but fleeting echoes—foreigners in a cosmic transience. Our souls, like delicate particles of stardust, traverse the boundless void. Imagine: a speck of dust suspended in the sunbeam of eternity. We drift, unanchored, through epochs and eras, our essence woven into the fabric of time. Each heartbeat resonates with the pulse of forgotten constellations. This world, once vibrant and resplendent, now wanes—a fading ember in the cosmic hearth. The symphony of life falters, notes dissolving into silence. We, too, are part of this unraveling—a minuscule fragment in the grand unraveling. Yet, within our insignificance lies … Continue reading Transient Echoes

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To Little Eyes of the Forest

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In the heart of verdant whispers, where the great rivers flow, Dwells the soul of the forest, in the children’s eyes, it glows. With feet bare upon the earth, their laughter rings in tune, To the parrot’s vibrant chorus, ‘neath the watchful Amazon moon. Tiny hands, like leaves, reach out, to the sky so vast and blue, Grasping dreams of peace and harmony, in the morning’s dew. They dance with the spirits of the trees, in a silent, sacred ballet, Wearing crowns of orchids wild, in the break of day. Beaded bracelets jingle softly, anklets sing of ancient lore, Each … Continue reading To Little Eyes of the Forest

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Love, my dear, is the truest magic …

beatrizesmer

In the labyrinth of childhood, where innocence and wisdom intertwine, we are handed a series of enigmatic scrolls—the teachings of elders, the echoes of tradition. First, they whisper to us in hushed tones: “Be good, little one, and the world will bestow upon you gifts aplenty.” And so, we tiptoe along the tightrope of virtue, balancing our deeds like fragile porcelain, hoping that our goodness will yield a harvest of treasures. But then, the winds shift, and the scrolls unfurl further. The elders, their eyes alight with fervor, reveal another truth: “Beware, for there lies a fiery abyss where sinners writhe in eternal … Continue reading Love, my dear, is the truest magic …

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Saudade

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In the quiet recesses of the heart, where emotions swell and recede like the tides, there lies a space so constricted, so intimate, that it grips the soul with an intensity that is almost tangible. Here, inside, so tight, a lump form in the throat, a silent sentinel of the words unspoken, the feelings unexpressed. The heart, a vessel of thought, beats to the rhythm of unuttered dreams, pulsing with the cadence of silent musings. It is the crucible where the alchemy of emotion transmutes the mundane into the sublime, where the ordinary is imbued with the extraordinary. From the … Continue reading Saudade