Reality is really a mirror.
Reflections of multiple selves. 
We see in others.
What we may feel in our souls. 
Decipher the truth.
From what you feel.
Deception surrounds.
Your eyes decieve. 
Like Obi-Wan advised.
Be one with yourself.
Nature will follow.

Damn The Hustle

I can't seem to escape the hustle.
Each moment a jetstream of daily things.
Simply relaxing, requires a Julian Date.
Is this really how existence should be?
I mean think how the children play.
Not a care in the world.
A freedom adults lose or choose to forget. 
Oh to just play.
Regain my puddle-jumping glory. 
I just want to escape the bustle.
Create my own harmony.
Simple things. 
Bread and water.
The occasional lobster.
Ok, a little wine too. 
One day of hustling what I want. 
Not, what I'm supposed to do.

Personal History

Words cannot express
the emotion with which I feel.
Tirelessly considering,
the joy of childhood.
The love of parents
so happy for me.
A coffee sits.
Begging to be sipped. 
While I stare at
our old oak tree. 
The yard as square and cut
as dad kept it all those years.
Mom's aged cook book,
a family classic on the shelf.
Stares at me through dusty binding.
Years have passed.
Alone I tend to my history.
The coffee is getting cold.