Tag: life

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Our very essence

beatrizesmer

From the moment we emerge from the cocoon of the womb, our bodies begin their slow dance of disintegration, a delicate unraveling of molecules and bonds. It’s a process we hardly notice, as growth and decay intertwine in a delicate equilibrium. In the realm of chemistry, it is known as entropy, a constant disorganization of our very essence. And yet, amidst this unraveling, we continue to expand and thrive, a delicate balance upheld. In the language of biology, it’s called homeostasis, and in the world of physics, it’s equilibrium. But to us, it’s simply life—being alive, being built up and … Continue reading Our very essence

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Death

beatrizesmer

I, who am always silent, come to you today with a message that echoes through the ages. I walk by your side, a constant companion, yet you turn away, refusing to acknowledge my presence. I bring meaning to life, a reminder of its fleeting nature, but you choose to ignore my significance. In the depths of despair, I offer solace to those who suffer, yet you resist, clinging to the illusion of immortality. In your folly, you plead for reprieve from the consequences of your excesses, laying blame at my feet for the inevitable. I transcend your beliefs, your societal … Continue reading Death

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Rain

beatrizesmer

In the midst of the relentless rain and the persistent tapping of the wind against my window, I find myself drawn to the act of writing. The rain, with its gentle pitter-patter, has always held a mysterious allure for me. It stirs something within my soul, coaxing out words that have long been dormant, waiting to be released. Perhaps it is the way the rain and the silence intertwine, creating a symphony of their own. A melody that speaks in whispers, carrying secrets and stories within its gentle cadence. Or perhaps it is the realization that the rain falls not … Continue reading Rain

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This body

beatrizesmer

Within this vessel of flesh and bone resides the celestial dance of the cosmos. Here, in this mortal frame, the sun and the moon converge, casting their light upon the tapestry of existence. The stars twinkle within the depths of these eyes, mirroring the boundless expanse of the universe. The ebb and flow of the oceans pulse within these veins, a rhythm that echoes the heartbeat of creation itself. In the sanctum of this being, joy weaves its radiant tapestries, casting hues of elation across the canvas of experience. Yet, it coexists with loneliness, a silent companion that whispers in … Continue reading This body

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The meaning of our existence

beatrizesmer

Perhaps the essence of our existence lies not in the act of dying, but in the contemplation of how to depart, how to bid farewell to a life that feels fragmented, incomplete. How do we relinquish our presence when we have never truly inhabited our own lives? How do we depart when we have never learned to linger, to truly be? Our identity is a delicate web of perceptions woven from the memories we cling to, a patchwork of experiences and emotions that ebb and flow at the whim of circumstance. We define ourselves by what we hold dear, what … Continue reading The meaning of our existence

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Where are the verses for those amazing women?

beatrizesmer

Where are the verses for the women who defy the warnings of their mothers, forging their own paths through a world that bruises them with prejudice? What words will paint their stories, capturing the resilience in their new tongues and the scars of their battles? Shall we cast these poems into the depths of the sea, watching them sink beneath the waves as if the struggles of imperfect daughters do not deserve to be heard? As if their wounds do not bleed, their hearts do not ache, and their spirits do not rise from the ashes of self-doubt? Who are … Continue reading Where are the verses for those amazing women?

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Hourglass …

beatrizesmer

In this place, there lingers the scent of countless empty years, a musty fragrance that clings to the air like a ghostly remnant of time’s passage. Each page, weathered and worn, tells a story of days long gone, their sepia tones a testament to the relentless march of time. Dust dances in the stillness, stirred only by the breath of half-hearted readers, their presence a mere echo of the past. Here, time seems to stand still, suspended in a realm where the boundaries between past, present, and future blur into a hazy continuum. The half-dead readers, lost in the labyrinth … Continue reading Hourglass …

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At the end …

beatrizesmer

At the end, when the final curtain falls and the last chapter is written, what words will linger in the corridors of your mind? Will it be the echoes of a whispered “I love you,” or the melody of a song that danced through the chambers of your heart? When you close your eyes for the very last time, what will you see? Will it be a forest bidding its last farewell, or a sunset casting its golden glow over the endless expanse of the ocean? Perhaps it will be a kaleidoscope of memories, each fragment a window to the … Continue reading At the end …

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“Mom, why do the best people die?” “When you’re in a garden, which flowers do you pick?” “The most beautiful ones.”

beatrizesmer

In the garden of life, we are surrounded by a tapestry of souls, each one a unique and precious bloom. Some flowers are vibrant and bold, their beauty captivating all who behold them. Others are gentle and unassuming, their grace and kindness quietly touching the hearts of those around them. The best people, like the most beautiful flowers, seem to be taken from us too soon. Their light shines brightly, their fragrance fills the air, and their absence leaves a void in the garden of our lives. We are left to wonder why such radiant souls are called to depart, … Continue reading “Mom, why do the best people die?” “When you’re in a garden, which flowers do you pick?” “The most beautiful ones.”

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Beneath my skin …

beatrizesmer

Beneath my skin lies a treasure trove of stories, a tapestry woven with the threads of my existence. I am the coursing rivers of blood, the resilient flesh, and the sturdy bones that carry me through life’s journey. I am the weight of regret, the haunting whispers of “what ifs,” and the unwavering beacon of hope that guides me forward. I am the silver-tongued poet, weaving words into melodies that dance upon the air, and I am the heart of gold, brimming with compassion and empathy. I am the delicate paper, bearing the imprints of my experiences, the flowing water … Continue reading Beneath my skin …