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  THE VOICE (of faith and evil) "I believe the world itself can blind you with its banal sweet-honey taste, making you forget who you truly are. It's so easy to fall for it without even realizing about it. Sometimes I so hate it!" Thought he while staring at the gloomy morning that somehow felt as if carrying a burden of pessimism on its shoulders.  "I'd say that this world itself makes your spirit bloom in its rightful and truthful nature" a faint voice whispered, hollowed and distant. "Besides, what would you be if it wasn't for this world that you somehow have conquered and shaped to your own convenience?. This world, as you put it, has not left you out, furthermore it has complied to your wishes and whims". The soft tone of the whispering voice added. "There you are wrong! We know perfectly well that I am what I am through my God-given free will and that it is through HIS help that I have lived and experienced things out of HIS mercy s...

Based on the imperfections that represent life in general, I must admit that it is quite challenging to come to terms with this notion. Constantly, we are led to believe that our behavior, academic success, work promotion, and having a well-off standard of life should be regarded as perfect. However, in my humble opinion, these notions are far from perfect or even real, mainly because they are a representation of the reality that takes shape in our minds. For instance, if someone can imagine living a perfect life—being healthy, having a nice cozy home surrounded by an idyllic environment—they may do their best to transfer that mental reality into the palpable and tangible day-to-day life we live. However, this "new" reality will likely be represented not in detail but as a similar copy to the one they had already imagined. In this tangible reality, that person will likely face certain limitations and obstacles to overcome, in addition to the possibility of getting sick or, pe...

Your love vibrates in the waters of  my heart,  play your music, your lullaby,  and in your bosom let me rest, while you my darling, caress my head. You, the pillars of my life, the golden cup, the laurel crown, I, the slave of your love, the one who abandons his own, the one who cannot exist without submerging his head in the goldens  of your hair, in the slumber of your tranquility, in the mountains of your breasts. You my goddess, what am I to be without you? a simple decaying soul that even the sun denies to shine upon, you my calmness, who tames my enraged spirit for war,  that cruel one that distorts the heart and the soul. You the one I love with all my might, the one I care during the blazing sun and starry nights, you my sunrise sung by birds, my sunset bathed in red and gold with a dagger that cannot hurt. At the gallop of my beast my heart stirs, beholding the wind as it gently caress the sun of your hair, the whiteness of the moon is poured on you, a...

We all admire or at least have admired someone because they represent either something that we lack or simply because we believe they set a good example that many of us tend to emulate in a certain way. It is that admiration that we can rely on, even when creating a purpose so we can lead a life with a goal in mind that needs to be seized "at all cost", which in turn, transforms into a rewarding satisfaction that helps us build up our character making us retain what was learned and to desire further more so as to satisfy our knowledge or desire for self-improvement.  There are, however, certain obstacles we must be careful with, such as idleness and/or spending time with people who do not contribute to neither our personal growth nor our eagerness for knowledge. This is potentially harmful for those who are weak in spirits and will. They can get infected by ignorance and bad behavior. Furthermore, this contagion could make an individual abandon what it is necessary for their ...

I run through paths of rainbow, catching memories, resonant I spread the wings of my childhood and I fly, an endless flight of ice and drops of crystal water, and while the music sounds in echoes, I let myself go, carefree. I do not stop, my soul is set free in seas of music and dreams of eras, and the places I go so unknown, personal, imposing and overclothed in  might, as I walk around, I encounter what I thought I already had, as I walk around I see you, with wings of forgetfulness and forgiveness, impeccable bathed in roses and jazmin, Wings spreaded, take flight, impose the sunset to stay still as we bathe in its light, sublime. poem written by jrqc  --------------------------------------- ABOUT THE POEM: As I wrote those lines above, a sense of tranquility came over me while my mind flew away to places that somehow I sensed I have been to. It might sound weird, foolish and even crazy, although I am pretty sure someone out there shares the same view as me.  The poem ...

WRITING, PAINTING  AND GUITAR PLAYING by JRQC Once in a while I get asked why I write or paint or why I sometimes play the guitar. I am afraid there is no concrete answer or perhaps? How about yourself? There is something amazing that we as humans have: a talent. Even though some people might refute this notion by stating they are irremediably with no talent which I personally believe and regard as totally nonsense (no offense intended). Let me explain my point of view. As a kid, I remember my classmates being able to sing, play football, make cookies, draw and even have excellently molded handwriting. I remember admiring these qualities they had without realizing mine. I confess that I was jealous at times since I also wanted to be as good as they were. Certainly I was  not aware of my own good abilities back then: learning languages, skating and having a great imagination when playing with my toys. Being talented does simply not refer to knowing how to paint or know how to s...

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  COFFEE SHOP “A cappuccino and a slice of chocolate cheesecake, please” – Just another day, although this time he simply decided to go out since he felt like relaxing in a café and dedicate some time to his writing. The place wasn’t bustling with customers and the atmosphere offered a much-needed peace and quiet… just a little out of the ordinary place for writing since mostly he’d do it at home. The place felt warm and cozy, with dimmed lights and a comfortable, green-velveted chair and a nice sturdy table to sit at. A sip of warm coffee with a touch of cinnamon felt great in his palate as he proceeded to take out his laptop. “What should I write about?” – What does it take to write if not a simple word or a sentence and see it how it flourishes like a flower in spring. The magic is there, and it doesn’t matter the topic because our minds are so creative by nature that one would just start with a word and take it from there. He pondered his own experiences, bad and good… he...

  FREEDOM There comes the time again. With its tight grip around the neck reminding you that the clock is ticking, and that monotony is wearing you away. Everyday seems endless and ultimately: aimless. Getting up everyday almost at the same usual time, have your regular breakfast and almost robotically, you carry on with the rest of your day just to repeat it over an dover again, day after day. What seems to be ordinary, slowly wastes you away, gets you away from your essence, the nature of your true self. As he was getting things ready for breakfast, these and many more thoughts cascaded in his mind, powerfully and in torrents, to the point that he began to feel helpless and rather annoyed. While looking away thoughtfully at the view from his kitchen window, the frying pan with a couple of eggs in it, let him know that if he didn’t remove them from the pan, they would get awfully burnt. And it was in that moment, like a flash of thoughts, that he sprang up from the chair, pu...

  MORNING    The rain was tapping softly at the window of her room, as if it was gently waiting for her to wake up from her slumber. Slowly the piano music coming from her digital alarm clock started playing, softly and soothingly. It was as if the music was playing its tune to accompany the gentle rain outside. So peaceful. So ideal perhaps. She slowly started opening her eyes to the soft sounds around her and she noticed that feeling of waking up in peace, in such an ideally atmospheric moment. She stretched out while gazing at the window, at the world outside. The white curtains pulled to the sides would let her see the crystal of her window, with trickles of water running down, resembling little rivers of peace. The pine trees outside being showered and refreshed by the water, were slowly swaying rhythmically to the sides. They looked as if they were greeting her that morning. She smirked at this thought, at the marvelous simplicity and beauty of the rain, of thos...