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Lifestyle of a Dream Walker

This volume is dedicated in all sincerity to every lover of the true and beautiful

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I want to be my own person. I want to live Life because nobody else does. They search for the meaning when it is right there in front of them. I know the answer, and I come to use it because it was presented to me only by God. And by that, that is my only relationship. I am going to experience every feeling. I am going to be treated by nature and its productions. I am featured as a creature with special powers moving to the future, remembering the past, and working the present. I am.

To the talents that will last within myself,

I can see through the Artist’s magentas, cyans, and yellows. I can listen to the cries of singers and hear between the vague C and subtle flat A. I can write…

A is for apple

B is for bear

C is for can…


When made from quality and time, a single candle can last forever, but if by accident or on purpose, it can be blown out too fast for one’s own liking.


Death always seemed to sneak its way through and plant itself back into my life. It was a precious moment. To have silence and tears for more than thirty minutes. And it wasn’t just for me; it was a gathering of silence and tears. On one single pace, there was finally harmony in this distracted world. Death was next door - connecting walls. I could hear her breathing as prayers kept her warm, but the people surrounded were hurt. They knew that this reunion would never happen again. Death was here to take her by the hand. It carried a sister, stole a grandpa, swallowed an aunt. It took away the love harvested in this soul and stopped it completely - a crime that only Life can commit.


Her death nearly acknowledged me. I was afraid it would be too late before I listed yet another regret. I missed her already, but it was because I had forgiven her. And in that last “I love you”, there was nothing else to worry about. Eternal Life accepted her as its faith and no longer required her burdens. Light in her voice, gentle in her touch, Heaven was there.


I wanted to feel hate for her. I wanted to have reason to not feel the way I do. I wanted my entries of hate to exist. I wanted them to be real and not a momentary act of melancholy. But I loved her. She was the one.


It no longer hurts to say “Goodbye”, because it is the “Hello” that makes it all the more exciting. To smile once again and feel my heart swell, I feel us lock into each other’s arms and twist into an eternal vine of jasmine that is too beautiful to cut off. We twist and turn, laughing, biting, and cooing in a silence made for two. And in the minutes that pass like days, we open our eyes in a room where only white light filters through. Innocence lies between the sheets of Love and the End. The knowledge of sin fades away as we play hand in hand, adventuring in each other’s nakedness and continuing to act as if Time has also left us. Nothing was left but the gift of Love.


The stargazers gather around, telling stories of aimless journeys on overgrown paths. They smirk and reminisce, emphasizing on the journeys that start with you. Dancing to a song that only exists in your head while Mother calls you, dancing out the door, dancing on a whim, leaving without the sound of a slamming door. The entrance is wide open, and as time progresses and the moon settles on the shallow wind, the creatures make home in what is now an abandoned chamber. Dark faces and sharp teeth, the sound of their lullabies echo and you finally understand their desire for butterfly skeletons. They bite and scare the weak with crooked poetry but they never mean to harm. The night sky greets you, forever sending light on the untouched paths. She guides you but you lose your way so easily. You wish to write poems and songs to the ones you loved, hoping they’d understand where your heart was. The forest is where you belong. The translations of the creature’s moans begin speak louder than your own natural tongue and the world seems to become darker. The laughter was gone and the story ended.


All I wanted was to be alone with her; isolated with just our voices. I felt selfish once I realized it, but that was all I wanted. I wanted no interruptions and knew that if there were, time would resume again. I would wait for us to embrace each other with eyes closed, touching faces that were always familiar yet surprising. And if anybody else saw us, they knew we were in love. Life would go on, but all so distant. We wouldn’t see it as it used to be. Washed with a rose-colored tint, all I saw was her.


I felt Love disappear so suddenly. It would certainly come back, but for a reason I am too afraid to admit out loud, I wanted it to disappear for a longer time. I wanted to miss it, and yearn for it, and remind me what I am without it. I needed these reminders because I knew in the end, my Love could out stand any other’s. But a lover’s competition revealed where it ended, and if it was even possible to stop loving the way I do.


It was a year of ignorance and love. I learned of many things between the two. I learned of how they relate with one another, how they react when held close, and the beauty that comes when they are apart. These lessons from the many people in life of different perspectives, some wicked and some gentle, all realized the affect it had on one lost girl. But the source of it all was from the one that held Time in her hands. She gave me an object, a life that no one will ever give me again. The Love was something remarkable, but misunderstood. It was much too complex to solve in a day or even a year. Not even I, who has been with it for much longer, can gaze at it with a complete understanding. However, I can tell you how this came about - the perspectives I speak of. This Love was different, different than what the blood in our veins could ever imagine. Instead of acting as the pollen from one flower’s center to another, it spread like a disease. From the holy mouths God provided came a language only awful minds understood. Divided certainty is what made this Love all the more beautiful. It fought, snuck through the crevices that ignorance could not see, and lives to tell the stories a generation after us will want to hear not because the fight must go on, but to see what beauty comes from a trashed love.

one giant leap for mankind

There is a shimmer in between the hours that remind me of the places I belong, where there will always be a brave petal finding its way to bloom and a moon rising, spilling her light over the wilderness. Leaves of silver. Lack of gravity. I write the letters of trust onto my skin and practice the wolf’s song for I am too afraid to sing with the others. Sometimes, when I haven’t seen the light in days I beg the moon to take me with her and make me a wandering star covered in the shimmers of nebula. And when I do, the moon has the same answer for me every time. 

"Look you’re already there, wandering between darkness and light. It is not any different from above. Learn the songs of others. There is a tongue behind their sharp teeth made for the most wondrous poems".

Nº. 1 of  25