come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
I hope there was meaning in it.
I hope we made a meaning of it.
We fought for it. I fought for it.
What is left in the end?
I am searching in my eyes,
in my mind, in written words.
All I know is there’s a need to find a good fight,
a fight for our identity, a fight for goodness,
a fight for better future.
4.6.2025
When the ground falls and you plunge —
straight into the water —
you remember the fear you’ve forgotten awhile ago.
Like a torrential rain, it will dissipate
cotton candy clouds of idyllic daze,
and the familiar senses — the survival —
kicks right back in.
But don’t you go chasing after that stick yet.
Remember the rhythm, the breathing, so that you can see —
beyond what is immediate, beyond what feels tangible, and for what we will stand for in the end.
Remember the smile. Remember the soft warmth. Remember the playfulness.
Remember that you are loved.
4.5.2025
I like seeing your smile.
Like a small white budding flower
on the eve of a spring,
It brings soft warmth to my heart.
Yes — there are times for the sparring —
Let us savor this moment’s scent,
cherishing this dreamlike ephemeral peace.
May it keep our humanity within us.
I like you, you know.
I think we are a good team.
I enjoy our journey together.
I want to be with you as long as the time allows.
4.4.2025
I know I must grow;
please grant me enough strength
to understand than to wish to be understood.
Grant me enough wisdom to forgive for the sake of virtue, not for selfish interests.
Grant me enough clarity to see through the noise
and see others for who they really are.
4.3.2025
Thank you for being kindhearted.
I was once blind with self-pity,
but your warmth has shown me the way.
It’s not easy, nor will it get easier,
but I can keep chugging along,
knowing I have the warmth in me
that can reach out to others and grow together.
4.2.2025
Soft and sweet.
I will remember you by.
As if in a dream,
no more traces left behind.
Shedding our leftover skin,
we march with a lion’s heart of a kind.
Though we hold on by the skin of our teeth,
no more regrets as we sit to dine.
Hold your glass of crystalline,
may we meet again to cherish this wine.
4.1.2025
In spite of it all, I am content.
I have seen, felt, and talked.
I have ran as hard as I could,
even if it was on a treadmill.
I will remember them all,
and count the joy we’ve had.
In the end, it was marvelous,
it was beautiful, it was glorious.
3.31.2025
Dear M, I am grateful for our run.
Jogging through the forest in full autumn foliage, we only chatted about the most mundane things,
but the bright smile, the lighthearted laugh, and the random jokes are what I remember to this day.
I made choices back then that I wish I had not made. In retrospect, had I been more courageous and honest, I may have avoided it. I am grateful for your strength, forgiveness, and resilience.
At times, I wonder if I have paid my dues. I sense it’s a lifelong responsibility, and I vow to be truthful to myself.
I will pass along the positivity and generosity you have shared with me. It would be a solace to see you smile again.
3.27.2025
Dear Y, thank you for the 3 hours of memory.
When our 3-hour meeting was over,
in the morning after flying into the city,
I sat by a tiny jostling French franchise cafe,
staring out into normalcy of a suburban Spring,
realizing I may not see you again for a long long time (perhaps eternally long).
A burning realization shook me to my core. Should I have asked you to stay? It was just a few minutes ago—an alternate universe so palpable and vivid that it’s a somber reminder of utter solitude.
I walked through high-rises, museums, and the cemetery, and another question started to arise.
What is this burning sensation? Is it mutual? Is it pure, noble compassion, or is it a dark ball of yarn of obsession?
When my true colors arose, I could only acknowledge. I realized change was a necessity. To keep talking, running, and building is to keep the fire in my heart alive.
Thanks for showing me what staying true to yourself looks like. Thanks for walking away. Thanks for giving me a chance to look back at myself. Thanks for teaching me that I need to work, not just to survive but to keep dreaming, to keep loving, and to keep living.
3.25.2025
Dear J, you said, “dust to dust; Life is not enough to live for the sake of survival.”
So, if you ask me: “What is it you really want?”
My mind goes back to when I truly felt alive as myself years and years ago.
I want to dance with you slowly, to see your smile that spreads grace in my heart, and to hear the bursts of laughter crashing into my ears and reverberating at the same frequency as I make light fun of myself while teasing you a little.
In a soft and warm embrace, we slowly woke up from a sound sleep wrapped in a fresh and fluffy linen duvet, and the sunlight hit our forehead through the window from a cold winter blue sky in the morning. I want to cherish it a little longer.
I want to carry the silence at the rainy beach, the autumn mountain, and in the middle of the desert, a pasture and an ice field as I carry on with the repetition of daily life amidst bustling individuals and the rapid choreography we have scheduled.
Have I changed? Yes — inevitably, and as cliche as it can be, I did. The reason why I am here is to keep in mind what matters. To keep the promise I made a long time ago before I further turned into something unintended.
The house, the car, the dog, the cat, the flowers, the songs, the sun window, the shower, the photos, the parties, the food, the vacations, the clothes, the gadgets, the artworks, and the books, yes, all of them too. But most of all, let’s find the groove first.
3.22.2025
Ralph with Coffee 
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