Just before sunset, before the lightning dazzles the earth, everything seems to stop. My heart sinks, the universe beckons me closer, and my hands are steady. At this moment my mind is consciously still, my thoughts unknown to me, and I stand alone and at peace. This is my moment of clarity. At this time I know nothing, I do nothing nor do I say a thing. I am still, and my body beats and moves the way bodies do – and at this moment my mind relinquish all power, all control, and all design. I give in. This is…

I took one last look into your bedroom, my eyes filled with life, and turned away. The weakness of human design effortlessly revealed by nature, dissolving structure and breath in a matter of moments. Dogs barked in the alley and neighbors rushed to the scene as smoke settled among us. I remained still, unmoved – shattered. My tears, black from smoke and ash, painted trails on my cheeks. It was as though I was waiting for something, for the whole of life to collapse as well. The morning stars distanced themselves, giving way to the sun, and I remained. I…

Sir, Great moments in one’s life happen when one has given up desire, settled for whatever outcome may pass. If one hopes to inspire he does not try to inspire, he just is. And that was you; you were just you. And within this transformation, you became an inspiration, a teacher, and most importantly an example of how a good person ought to live their life. When I think of you I think of waves: I do not know you on levels others do, and I am happy with it because I was fortunate to see the boldness of your…

Originally posted on RB:
“There are two things children should get from their parents: roots and wings.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe I don’t deserve to have the mother I do. I don’t mean that in a self-deprecating way; Rather I find my mother to be such a rarity that it doesn’t seem fair to others that I ended up with her as my mother. Such is life I suppose, and instead of feeling guilt I am grateful to have this rarity in my life. I have always been a lot like my mother, the first similarity being our birthday. I often…

Being rocked back and forth on the D train, I lay my head back and breathe. Images of fingers wet, soaked in water and blood, fingers snapping and slipping making inaudible sounds. This is my meditation; lands forged by rough hands and sweat. Cities built by no personality, no discernible political mind, just with these hands, bloodied and slipping but still creating the peaks that we humans can create. A fear wraps around with the brunt of war but the footsteps of a ghost. Images belonging to someone else construct lanes into my psyche, forever changing into someone else that…