dearcocora

I knew a brilliant man.
A proud, fatherly man -
who bookmarked his heart between the lines of alpha, beta, and gamma.

He came from a great man.
A proud fatherly man,
who taught him to feel
isn't man.

So he cancelled half his mind,
reading between the lines,
from works of Einstein, Thales, Descartes.

Lost in a world, whose puzzle he understands — more linear, concise in answers.

He was offered a role at 16, which would have made his proud father more proud.

An offer to be,
among professors at a prestigious University —
Stanford was calling.
The line was ringing. 

It was during this time, his father's body lowered with the ground he proudly walked on & many followed for 46 years.

He was a very respected man.

The 16-year-old & his sisters hoped in the stillness to just be.
But the mother became cold,
one they didn't think could be more so,
she bookmarked her heart in a bottle that always ran.

But it never quite filled enough to erase the memories.

The doors in the children's bedrooms
became shields
to the strange men
she had brought home.

So, one by one,
they left
to become — 

something other than,
to just be.

I miss my wrestling buddy, my late night prank caller buddy, my better half, my husband. I lost him couple years back and still feel him with me, daily. It's hard to process his death when his presence is still very much alive in me. He'll always be my best friend and hold a special place in my heart. The only man I didn't lie to and could look in the eyes.

To the only guy I ever wanted to be with : cheers. I still drink Pabst and dream of you.

An exciting moment presents itself to me,
but I reserve the feelings.
I freeze that moment in time
until I am safe enough to feel happy about it.

Months from now,
I'll be able to relive this memory
and let the feelings sink in.

For now,
It'll remain as insignificant
as the lint inside of my pockets.

Sheltering the idea
of someday feeling them
in the palm of my hand.

— Sera Cocora

I read somewhere that God is more present-momented as a creator, and that for us — the future isn't set. I can't help but feel depressive boredom of trying to find things to do to preoccupy my time and worry it's like my hobbies are as sand in an hour-glass, slipping away from me & it takes away from my love for them. Boredom sets in, and suddenly I'll lose interest in the things I love just from a simple thought that minimizes what I love doing. "Oh, it's just writing", and like that, bed-ridden on a snap judgement. I'm told and ushered by the Universe to feel grateful for the things I have and have been doing, so it'll take time to reframe my internal dialogue to quit nagging me when I'm having a good time. Maybe art will set me free, it's been a while since I've painted. Then I'll have to remember what Sarah Connor taught us, "The future isn't set". So I will try not to take away myself from the present moment that causes me to spiral into the future of now. #imnewbie