Dear Unsealers,

As I write this post, it’s 5:45 AM on January 1st. Daybreak hasn’t happened yet.

But the smoke has cleared from last night’s celebrations, and blue skies appear.

I hope that 2025 is a good year for all of us. A year that’s filled with all the joys and minimal difficulties.

To that end, this is my welcome to January and the year itself:

At midnight on New Year’s Eve
A new day, month, and year begin

365 new days have arrived
With renewed optimism and joy

A reminder for 2025 and beyond…

Every day is a wonder to behold
Be the light that spreads out into the world

Wherever your pursuits lead
I’m cheering you on all the way

For the days of Auld Lang Syne
A toast, with all the cups of kindness yet

I wish everyone, everywhere
A Happy New Year!

Another physical year
About to pass on.
This leap year
Flew by,
Seemed
Like. A Hop, Skip & a jump,
I guess some of us needed
That extra day.
See you next February 29th.

The tree is still lit,
the walls are adorned.
We celebrated the day,
our savior was born.

The gifts are all opened,
The presents are done.
The family dinner,
is now left-overs for one.

Everyone got home,
safe and sound.
There’s still a few shreds,
of wrapping on the ground.

The house is so still,
everything is quiet.
I can hear my heart break,
amid all the silence.

I already miss it,
having my family all there.
The sound of their laughter,
filling the air.

But life must go on,
the world keeps on spinnin’!
I wish it would stop,
or slow down for a minute.

Going back to work,
feels somewhat surreal.
Coworkers are great,
but family is real.

One thing I’ve learned,
as I’ve gotten older;
The worst part of Christmas,
Is when it is over.

I will stitch a world from my verses,
Sewing these words of confidence into your hair like flower crowns of daisies.
To join these joints into sockets that would complete rivers.

This isn’t the story of Pangea.
It’s the tale of a seam unbroken,
Where each chain stitch holds together pieces of pain and hope.

A prick of sorrow, a stab of truth,
Threads unraveling, yet I sew them anew.

Binding scars into patterns, weaving triumphs through the cracks,
Every loop and knot a map of survival—
A tapestry of me, of you, of us.

Finally getting to a point
Of not giving too much
Attention to these fucked
Up situations. Everything happens
For a reason and I’m thankful
For my new found love!
No, it’s not a person.
It’s my art formation. Helps
Me alleviate some of the anger
Or sadness also helps me
Express when I’m ecstatic.
These fucked up situations
Only leads to new content.
So I guess instead of getting mad
About it I’ll start to give thanks.
So thanks to every situation that
Lead me to writing.

Love comes in many
Forms it doesn’t
Have to be sexual.
The concept of love
Is different for each and
Everyone of us.
Some love to touch
While others love to talk
Hear the reassuring sound
Of certain and specific sounds.
From the words that come out.
Love is expensive and expressive.
It’s addictive but don’t get it twisted,
The words “I LOVE YOU” don’t mean shit.
If it’s not coming from the right person.
Love is a feeling that is revealing through
The ears, the eyes, can be touched from
Vibrations of the frequency of the voice.
Once you hear that certain noise,
Ears perk up like a dog, now you’re filled
With joy. Even the scent can bring some
Love as your brain ignites and triggers
A wonderful feeling from inside.
Love struck like lightning from deep
Inside my mind, I had to express Myself.
I’ve felt love from plenty.
I’ve showed love also experienced
& expressed it gradually.
Without loving myself how
Could I show it,
Love is diverse
& driven from Emotions.

Once you’ve been “Awaken”
You’ll realize everything
Is just a simulation of your
Very own imagination,
Shaping your reality.
We’re all here and have different
Perceptions, if you hear em
And see em moving to
The words you think.
Or the words you read,
Maybe if you’re artistic
You see em play out the
Words you write.
So now it is what it is
Some go with the statement
Of “living in the matrix”,
Some Rationalized it
With quantum physics.
While others have a different
Representation or a different
Calculation, coming to another conclusion
Of how it started.
A conscious conscience,
Some are just a Con in science.
Is this a coincidence? Is it a theory?
Is it a fantasy?
The power of the mind
Is incredible, imagine
A thought coming to life
Images reciprocating through
The eyes. Now it’s more than a vision.
Those thoughts are being played
In the present through actions.
The Time it takes for the mind
To retrieve this information is astounding.

Dear Unsealers,

It’s Christmas Eve!

December has gone by so fast. It felt like it was five minutes since I was celebrating my birthday at the very start of the month.

Now, we’ve reached the conclusion of Advent and head into the twelve days of Christmas.

I hope that wherever you’re celebrating the holiday, it’s done in the company of people that you love. With an extra moments of arms held aloft for those that find this time of year difficult to celebrate.

For those of you that celebrate this day, I wish all of you a very Merry Christmas!

The following is my Christmas message for this year:

Time went by so fast, didn’t it?
December came in and went like a jingled blur

After twenty four days wait
A celebration of the savior’s birth

As the bells ring out, people gather
Friends, family and loved ones

For it’s Christmas Day at last
With love and kindness towards all

Wherever you are in the world
I wish for you all the peace today

Said many times in many ways
From me to you, from NYC to the world…

Merry Christmas!
¡Feliz Navidad!

Joyeux Noël!
Frohe Weihnachten!

Nollaig Shona!
Feliz Natal!

Buon Natale!
Καλά Χριστούγεννα

Sretan Božić!
Bon Nadal!

Energy from a feeling
Moving through the body.
Otherwise known as emotions.
The mind connects these Feelings,
Internally we think.
Ongoing about certain places or things.
Numerous times we feel with our minds
Sad, happy, mad, exited or frightened.

You show up without warning
Sparking my interest
I wouldn’t do this normally
But I choose to accept
I follow the narrow
Reluctantly I’m dressed
Checking over your shoulder
Stepping in walls of Magnolia
I proceed to regress
Caught speechless
Long by deviant
Leading me out further
Moments I feel descent
Going without reason
I sense meaning
Yielding for composure
I watch myself be
For seconds I am
Unto never again

Chillin like the
Winter breeze.
Watching the tiniest
Bit of me leave,
With the air I breathe.
Watching snowflakes fall.
Along with the steam rising
From a cup of hot co coa
Twirling it around in circles.
A breathtaking moment
Of the cold days in December.
Can you picture this
Written image?

During the Big Bang, I was born,
Stardust from the cosmos, fallen to earth.
Evicted from the sky—a shooting star,
No place to call home.

When I reach for the heavens,
I’m still trying to return.

I stood at the ocean’s edge,
Longing for the ripples to embrace me.
Crabs taught me their secret—
To float away on the tide.
I prayed for my find,
But no Ursula came to grant my wish.

When I reach for the giant blue mass,
I’m still trying to return.

Through forests alive with kaleidoscope hues—
Orange, red, and yellow flush my path.
Strong thoughts flood my mind,
A deep yearning to live amongst the leaves.

In the trees, the birds perch on old branches,
Their wings whisper freedom—
A freedom I long to hold.

When I reach for the tall oak,
I’m still trying to return.

I’m still trying.
I’m still trying.
I’m still trying.

Still trying to shed this human existence,
To finally be one—
One with the world around me.

Although I didn’t participate in the recent Open Mic Night with the “Courage” theme, I was inspired to write this brief, lighthearted poem.

C in Courage is for committing
O represents Omitting whatever’s preventing you from committing
U – Understanding your role
R – Realizing the goal
A – Aligning with the purpose of what you need to be courageous about
G – Going for it with gratitude and without second-guessing and doubt
E – Energized, electrified, elevated to move…
Out of fear mode and into your courageous groove.

The mission can be smooth
When whatever is blocking your courage is removed…

Courage can be contagious
No, it’s not outrageous
I hope and pray you’ll be courageous and free
To do whatever it is you were sent here to see and be!

I avoid the light on brighter days. Should have known better than to look directly at my Grace. Now we speak of sons and who will be the last ones standing. I am not demanding but will seek out the answers. Debilitated by the bastards who’ve shown their face but never skin. Walked within the mental temple I begin but apparitions are the outlines of our sins.

I strolled with her in the sunrise
she sang to me in lullabies
I waited for her endless times
but I was never told.

We watched the clouds unfold how dare she be so bold hear my prayers, wipe my tears, watch me grow old. For years I waited on that block connecting time and youth as one. I circled like my childless mom waiting for my turn around the sun. It bled me dry from all I cry waiting for her to rise from the deadness inside as she collapses instead at the foot of the bed and we pray to what we cannot see the evidence will never be in the shade of yesterday I see what I’ve been circling and the beauty we are birthing

only to hand it over in the end.
I will not bend
I cannot go
I will not send him there.

My Grace you have outgrown me I wish you would have known me longer than our summertimes. I rise everyday like the Fourth of July hoping you will be a firefly a firework up in the sky or something that can never hide from me again. I live with your ghost I collapse as a host of your fragile soul I want to feel you near me but you fear me I fear my dear it’s now the end.

Narrator: Let me tell you a fable of three brothers, sitting and having a feast around a table:

Brother 1: Who is this God compared us three? Are we, His image, not better than He? Is not our greatness exposed for all of the world to see?

Brother 2: Yes my brother, I am inclined to agree. For I am an axe who is capable of felling any tree. Be it cedar, maple, or oak. No matter how tall or how small. All I need is a mighty hand to swing me, and I shall lower them all

Brother 3: Ah my foolish brother, you are nothing more than a brute, where as I myself am a beautiful flute. I’m the one people desire as they feast and they dine. The one they enjoy as they sip on their wine. All I need is someone to breathe through me, and I shall make a sound most divine.

Brother 1: Silly brother, who are you to try and pretend? For you know that to the heights of my glory you shall never ascend. For great as you are, of us three you are least. You shall not rise, as bread lacking yeast. Where as I am a well of knowledge, for I am a book. People have travelled far and wide just so upon me they may look. The information I contain has built kingdoms from dust, and left empires shook. I record all of that which I see, just so long I have an author to write within me.

Brother 2: Brothers now is not the time to argue about who is greatest and who is least, but let us sit together and enjoy our feast.

Brother 3: My brother you are right. This is not the time to argue, let us not fight, but rather let us lift up our glasses as I propose a toast. For we three brothers are the pinnacle for most.

Narrator: Fools! Who are you to arrogantly boast?
For You are but mere tools, who are useless unless you are used by your Master
And the works of your hands are doomed to collapse, as a wall built without mortar or plaster.
For you trust in knowledge, strength, and fame, looking to them for your power
But their power is fleeting, and they shall depart from you in your final hour
The works of your hands shall crumble to dust at times passing
But as for God, His work shall be everlasting
How can man hope to compare to the almighty God?
For He is the One who spoke forth the heavens and created the earth
He was the One who formed man from the dust, and was there when woman first gave birth.
He is the judge who shall pass forth our sentence
And the only One with the power to bring forth works of repentance.
You think that your glory shines so valiant, so bright
But in the wake of His glory, it shall appear as day, even in the darkest of night.
So raise up your glasses, and make ye your toast,
But as for me, it is in the Lord God I shall boast

to listen in order to speak,
to speak in order to be heard-
a human flaw we’ve come to
adopt
robbing us of the beauty of
what it means to be
human
to connect-
fully.

we live in a world where your response
matters more
than the proposal,
where the aftermath, the outcome,
is better than the journey-
we’ve lost the beauty in the becoming
too busy rushing to be.

we’ve adopted the butterfly
as the mascot of freedom,
her beautiful wings spreading wide,
ready to take on the world-
we neglect
what it took to get there
the caterpillar who lurks,
stuck in the before.

we celebrate our 18th birthday
then our 21st
then the 25th
and our 30th.
glossing over the others-
because, somehow
they’re unimportant.

and at 30,
you’ll wonder where your 20s went-
as if you didn’t
only celebrate them twice.

at 30, you’ll wonder where time went,
feeling like you lost your ‘prime’
as if,
during this time,
you weren’t just waiting for the next best thing:
turn 30, get married, own a home,
start a family.

now what?

you’ll wait to turn 40.
maybe gather family for celebrations
as you realize you are just a
watered down version of yourself-
the dreamer of your 20s slowly
slipped through the drains of a city
that used to inspire you-

you’ll wonder what happened to your zest,
when you stopped writing,
when you stopped looking up,
and looking down instead.

maybe-
you got too used to it
to enjoy it-
the architecture used to wow you,
now
you casually pass it by on your weekly Sunday walk to trader joe’s,
you don’t look up at it anymore,
or stop in the middle of the street
to capture the perfect photo,
one that will humble you-
and will live on,
or so you thought.

but it didn’t stop there,
you stopped smiling at strangers
you stopped losing your breath every time you saw the Manhattan skyline at night
your inspirations became too comfortable
and the appreciation swept away.

so what’s next?

you’ll turn 40 and realize half a life has gone by
since you last had a
lust for life,
half a life has gone by
since you last got your breath taken away
by the beauty of your new home.

so, you’ll spend the next 20 years
begging for your youth back
as the wrinkles multiply-
you’ll celebrate every
single
birthday
between 40 and 60,
because there is 20 birthdays inbetween
40 and 60-
not just four.

you’ll teach yourself the in-betweens
are worth celebrating too,
that turning 42 is somehow,
just as special as turning 21-

you’ll teach yourself that while
it feels like you have already lived so
many lives,
it’s still your first- and only- life.

you’ll teach your kids that you’re still growing up too-
that youthfulness and adulthood can coexist,
that 60 is the new 21
and to listen is
just as important
as to speak.

You took advantage of a vulnerable situation
Gave me your hand that led me to lies
I just wanted you to stay
Now I need you to stay away

Empty promises of passion and adventure
Sounded so great until you took it away
I wish I could hate you but I have too much empathy
Still, I hope you stay a million miles away

Stay with me
Stay away
Stop playing this little game
I wish you could take all the blame
We’re both guilty of the sky turning grey

In ten years you will be ready for something more
When you come I won’t answer the door
Permanently closed to the idea of reconciliation
I threw away the key to our ultimate fantasy
Stay where you are
Don’t come back to me