There are some things that words cannot say. So, I might sing a song. If the song doesn’t do what I thought it would do, then I might go on a walk. When I get home from the walk, I’ll paint the sun and the sky, but there is still something left to be said. Maybe there is always something left. Seeing an old man cry makes me think that there is no such thing as peace. It something we chase that can never be caught. When I turn on the news, I think that most of the world has gi

When starting something new, the only comparison we have, is to old. We look over our shoulders as we are pulled forward. Sometimes we don't want to move forward, but the world does around you - if it doesn't pull you forward, it can pull you down. But, we all stay on our feet because life is nice enough to stumble through - it's never black or white. Personally, I act today with the eyes of an old man. I want to look back through all the blur and remember there were more bet

When I look to the sky, the day turns to night, when I look away. But, if I stay wuth my head high, and my eyes bright, time drags by. The clouds, paint the sky, change in scene. And the sun, stays constant, almost not moving. Eventually, I look to ground, as the grass, blowing in the wind, bends over my feet. I can't tell if it is pushing me to go, or pulling me to stay. All I know, is when I look up, again, the sun went away. Now, the moon light hits the hillside, and paint

Like anyone, I like making something of my own. I believe there is a human desire to be unique and different. As much as we want to be around each other for support, love, and relationship, I believe, subconsciously we want to be better than each other, as well. I don't think this is founded in malace, rather, this is what allows for progression in every aspect of our lives. For me, creation acts as an export. It gives me freedom. The freedom to say what words can't speak. We

Just like anyone, I am self-conscience of what people think of me. I want to know what people think of me. And in that mindset, I discouraged myself, from being myself. I don't do things that call to me, because I am worried that the people will think I am trying to be someone I am not - partly because that was the person I encouraged them to believe. But, by being what I want to be, when I want to be it, gives me a great freedom to enjoy every aspect of life, and myself. Hus

The man who woke, ate, worked and slept, lived a shorter life than the woman who lived, looked, sat and smiled. Even though they both were born the same year, the man lived life as a chore and the other lived it as a privileged. When each day mesmerizes with beauty, days grow long. A five minute sunset freezes when you watch it, truly watch it. But, the man who walks with his head down will find himself in bed before long. For he ran out of time, time he never had. But, his l

Ego I have struggled a lot with the acceptance of being bad. To learn, means to be bad for a period of time, while growth grows. Having my ego smothered and killed, and having humbleness take over is one of the hardest things, I think, a human can do. Dedicating my life to a subject, only to have someone be so much better than me, is very disappointing. Even worse, is having the same ability as someone and then watching them outgrow you, surpassing your ability. This is one o

Do we look up at the clouds because they are pretty, or because we are afraid some devil might cut them down? Do we look up in awe or in paranoia? If the moon is hung, that means it can be unstrung. And if the sun has a smile, can it be mad? If it can, what would happen? If rain turns to hail, and hail turns to pain, would I cover my neck, but break my hands? The process is scary, so I get on my knees, and talk to the clouds, begging in pleads. I put a face to the madness bec

Change is remembered through the sky. Whether the weather is clouded and grey or clear blue, heads tilt up to grasp themselves. The sky is a mirror of our memories. The memories of all that had been different. Whether yourself, or your situation, change is daily, and the sky reflects that. Change is hard. Hard because we’re leaving expectations of ourselves and others behind, and building new ones. Hard because what was once comfortable, is now, uncomfortable. The sky that wa

What they will remember is that, that I gave Whether a word or a weapon, it’s written and paved Paved into the word of history, I desire To be forgotten is death and with that I am not tired So I burn my bed and build a choir Sing to the clouds, higher and higher Some cheer, but others yell What they want, I cannot tell Torn between what can and what can’t It’s black on both sides so I stay in my stance I’m stretched from the middle and given demands What I can sing, what wil

Music has a unique way of describing emotions and settings that we have all lived before; but describing them in a way we have never thought of. Descansando by Fuerza Regida is a perfect example of this. Descansando is a song about loss, and if you have never lost before, you have lost love, so we can all relate to that. One of the many reasons I have become so obsessed with Mexican music is how beautifully different the English translations can be. Verses that are musically

The other night, before I went to bed, I felt good; like I do most nights. Before I went to sleep, I remember imagining of a better life for myself, and the people I love: better than good. This imagination looked like a combination of perfection in my head. Each win was followed by another, and everyone was applauding. After my thoughts turned to dreams, I was humbled. The perfection I had made up in my head, was then killed in my head. I lived in a world where everyone wat

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