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There are some things
that you just shouldn’t say;
there are some things
that you should just keep to yourself;
there are some wishes that should just stay
thoughts in your head,
and they should stay that way;
there are some things and some dreams and wishes
that you should just never tell.

If you see something you should share it,
if you feel something by all means you should express it-
but words and speech are very powerful things,
and if you do not think before you speak
what you wanted to last and what you always count on
being there might not be there anymore when you look again,
because saying what you said, for whatever reason,
might have accidentally, but always necessarily, and fatefully,
jinxed it.

Sometimes you can think of someone,
someone you haven’t thought about for ages,
and then suddenly and randomly out of nowhere, seemingly,
you see them right in front of you, and all the time;
sometimes you may not want to see a particular person
and they will constantly pop up into view on your timeline.

The world is complicated and fascinating,
and there is always more going on than we can ever know.
The lives of strangers tangle together every second
as we make our way according to the direction
and plan of a universal map and nexus of what
we all need to do and where we all need to go.

Superstitions are not a science of the sort that we know,
but the significance and meaning is tangible and ever-present;
superstitions are not just sayings or ‘old wives tales’ to me,
superstitions are proof of the omni-present,
superstitions are hieroglyphics of language and thought
that cannot so easily be swept-aside or dismissed out of hand,
superstitions are myths and legends that ring true
for a reason- like the promise of an undiscovered country,
or the enduring story and allure of a lost island,
or a far away land.

Be careful what you wish for,
because someone is always listening;
be careful what you say,
because some times the reply that you get back
could be very surprising;
be careful what you do,
because things that you thought were burned and buried
have a way of rising from the flames like a Phoenix;
be careful to think clearly about what you want
and why you want it, and if it means a lot to you
keep you secret to yourself for as long as you can,
because the last thing you want to do is jinx it.

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My thoughts, my poetry, my life,
is so precious to me.
When I think of something,
when something completely random and unprovoked
pops into my head;
when I pick up my pen
and I write down something that inspires me for some reason,
even if it is a single word,
I can’t tell you how content I feel;
when something as complicated and nuanced as a thought
becomes real because ity can now be seen, spoken, and read.

I wrote my first poem
because I wanted to tell someone that I loved them.
It was the best feeling in the world
when the words first started to come to me in my hour of need
and began flowing from me to the empty page.
The time that I spent writing that first expression of my feelings
for someone who I didn’t know, other than that I loved them,
was, and still remains, one of the most awe-inspiring, fulfilling,
incredible, and magic moments, of my life.
The words just flowed so easily,
like a stream of pure inspiration and love-
and since then I have been in love with writing and expressing
thoughts, dreams, feelings, memories, in all ways and words.
Sharing the essence of something,
using the limited conduit of words and language
to impress upon someone what remains to be imagined,
relived, interpreted, pondered on and about, questioned,
in the same way that you ask yourself and others for days afterwards
how a magician was able to accomplish their spell-binding illusion.

Words are magic. Writers are wizards.
Most people don’t remember what they said, when, or why,
but a writer can never forget-
it is in their nature to tell the world stories of the greatest depths,
and of the most soaring of heights.
It is in a witer’s DNA to create a world
that is of its own space and for its own time,
but a writer strives to be enduring, to live forever,
to write an eternal epitaph that continuously makes people think
and re-read what has been written and read,
and changing the way that they imagine the words
coming to life in their head.

You can’t capture everything in words,
in pictures, or in music, alone;
but with the gift of memory, connection, curiosity,
and an undying need to never let even the smallest of insights of life
from falling through our fingers,
we leave great artifacts for future generations,
scattered like pieces of a vast mosaic,
that to be fully-understood they need to be read, seen, and heard,
as one, and together.

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