come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
in my darkest hours,
I subtly noticed that I was alone.
only the silence and darkness
that felt like eternity remained.
thankfully, it is now pocketed
in the corner of my memory
and in the thickening of my skin
to withstand another tsunami
if you are in your darkest moment,
let me offer you my silent presence.
I will remind you that you’re not alone
and that I believe in your growth.
6.15.2023
it didn’t matter then,
but I see it matters now;
just how important a simple thing as
being at ease can be.
as if we had all we needed,
as if we were the only ones in the universe,
as if nothing but just this moment existed,
I remember the soft smile.
as I see the grey sky above,
as I wake up again,
I try to remember
to bring such ease to others.
6.14.2023
I stared at the sky
and wondered why
we all are fighting over another
when we can enjoy this calm together
I ran whenever I felt I wanted to
but I see others’ glares in whatever I do
regardless, I keep facing to the rhythm
singing along with what I believe in
6.6.2023
dreams don’t have to stay as dreams
wiggle your toes
focus on your breath
there are ways to make things happen.
one by one
we will make our dreams come true.
6.5.2023
there’s a room
full of monitor screens.
some show a landscape,
some show a story.
outside the room
a desert dune spreads out
all the way to the horizon
as the sun beams from above.
do you choose to stay in the room?
do you choose to walk over the horizon?
water is drying out
it’s time to make a plan
and a resolution to be made.
6.3.2023
when we are close
in silence
you know
and I know
what we are thinking.
to note each body language
requires too many words;
rather, it’s ‘je ne sais quoi.’
no words needed;
yet your soul
and my soul
were warm
for albeit a brief moment.
farewell.
may your path illuminate in darkness.
5.14.2023
I remember the four seasons in that house.
in the summer, I can see the dark blue sky
through a sun window tilted diagonally.
I’d lay on the bed, reading William Matthews.
in the fall, I can pick a dried brown leaf
of a chestnut tree & make a wish
for a magical season to begin.
in the winter, I can see the back yard,
now piling up with thick, soft snow,
through kitchen window
as I wash bowls that had dumpling soups.
in the spring, I would stare at sunset,
glistening in a silent glorious opera
through budding green tree leaves
as I finish packing boxes.
the squeaking sound of wooden floors,
the table of vynil record player,
and the bottle of wine.
I remember the scent of the moment.
5.12.2023
I vividly recall
I was visiting a house
next to the house
I had loved so much.
wooden walls surrounded
a small back yard,
a hammock between old grand trees
and a wooden table in the middle.
soft breeze blew
Glistening sunlight trickled
through diamonds of tree leaves.
even though this was a dream
from my memory almost 10 years ago,
I am delighted it is with me now
for it was one of the happiest moment
I had lived.
5.11.2023
I’ve begun to suspect
anything that feels easy.
It’s when you feel relaxed
that you start degrading.
what you feel
may not capture your aptitude.
but, for now, let us rest
at the face of merciless illness
rest is the best fortitude.
5.10.2023
perhaps now is the time.
I feel pain in the head
and the heart feels rather numb.
I no longer feel the excitement
when I win a match;
only vainglory remains.
but this is a murky ground.
your friends, colleagues, and mentors
holds on to you.
to say no to all of that
and to take a leap
takes a fiery courage
to walk a blazing trail.
let us hold our head high.
let us prevail.
5.8.2023
Ralph with Coffee 
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