Seasoning this mundane, humdrum existence with food, travel, and the written word.

Often, we end up staring at a closed door for so long that we fail to appreciate the window that has been opened for us. I've been guilty of this myself. We mourn the death of something; a missed opportunity, a failed relationship, a wrong choice, more than it deserves. We're so caught up with the glamour of what could've been and miss out on the what could be. After all, change is the only constant that we can truly rely upon. Time and Life are always moving forward and yet, we seem to be more interested in becoming stagnant. Even a pool of stagnant water is nothing, but a breeding ground. I've always wondered why we're so reluctant about trying newer things. Or adamant about moving past something that didn't quite work out. We build up these situations in our minds to a point of perfection and usually not for what they truly are. The mourning isn't for these failed opportunities, but the disappointment we experience from not having our expectations me

That old parchment on the wall The ink has faded, the scribbles barely visible The tears that ran down her face As she inscribed her heart's lament  The smell still wafts from the old papyrus Crumbling down from the weight of his fantasies I stare at her delicate proud profile Her soft features searching for an answer Have you always imagined it to be this way? A wanderer lost, a love betrayed, a loss remedied I ran my fingers on the mossy decaying walls So many untold stories, lost and found Wars waged, a victor's cry, a defeated slump My heart ached, my fingers trembled, my knees buckled Passion knows not of logic, or bounded by falsities  Across the table our eyes will meet, a moment is all it takes A grandeur entrance it might not be, a slow uprising mayhap? A skeptic turned believer, at the red brick wall of ardor The unconscious interpreter of your soul, the eyes Mine seek them everywhere, and in everyone I discover you Only