Wednesday, September 16, 2026

What the Mirror Shows [poem]

 While others dream of kingdoms built of stone,

I frame a quiet kingdom of my own. 

Besides the washbasin, a mirror stands.

In tarnished silver held by careful hands.

It does not look for grand or majestic views,

But catches light in soft, domestic hues.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My ambition isn't gone; it just changed shape. The steady promise to keep planting, keep weaving, and keep choosing peace every day.

"The promise to keep choosing"

"Fierce determination"

"Growing who you are"

Commitment to keep showing up, and to keep building your life for the better.

Tuesday, August 18, 2026

Flowers after the Storm [soft spoken pages]

Some days, she is fierce and can move mountains. She is unstoppable, climbing the unknown. With gentleness, descending slowly with confidence and pace. 

Yet some days, she is a storm bracing for waves that will push against her. Sailing a treacherous force that will pull her under, apprehensive to fight against those waves. 

Gentleness... is hope and hope allows her to stay still, and her body will flow to the tides. I surrender my body and mind-this soul to the movements I can not control. 

Eventually, I'd see the rays of warmth that is the sun and a land peeked with luminous floral patches with lush green fields. 

Wednesday, August 12, 2026

Butterflies Cry [poem]

 Some say the butterfly is joy.

A painted jewel that sunlight can employ.

To flutter lightly through the summer air,

with patterns lifted from a dream too rare.

~

They do not speak of sorrow, ache or strain;

They only tell of sunshine after rain.

~

But look more closely when the day is done.

When dewdrops settle on the lilac petals.

As velvet shadows steams the sun.

~

The butterfly its journey is done.

It folded its wings underneath the descending sun.

The meadow hums a hymn for what's become

Remembers love that ended or begun.

~

It's the dew of the deep and quiet grief.

A teardrop falling from a silken leaf.

A miniscule translucent silent spill.

A sorrow carried by a creature still.

"Joy can still take flight, but even wings of wonder sometimes weep."

This is my song, to my everlasting growth, and promise to keep to keep going. Just like the butterflies in shine or rain.

Friday, August 7, 2026

A sacred place [poem]

 I used to think it was four walls, and a window, a door...

But maybe it's a feeling.

A place that is safe, and abundant in love. 

What is such a feeling? If not a place?

Maybe it's in hope. The way I desire and dream. The only safe space, the place where I feel free, and in control. A place that is vivid and seen. Just like the trees, and the wildflowers. Where the foxes run free across the dandelion, and daisy fields.

The sky is bright blue endless, and wide.

The clouds are scarce, but plenty.

I can see blue, clear lakes flowing against the stones, with endless sand stretching between the shores. Little crabs are building nests beneath larger stones.

What a joy to see it all, like a summer's cabin peacefully out in the middle of the mountains perhaps that is the sacred place.

Wednesday, August 5, 2026

Ode to the Moonlit Self πŸŒ™ [soft spoken pages]

You shouldn't have to apologize for how your life is, because that's the way the cards are dealt to you. And still, I rise with the stars, making the most of the hand I’ve been given.
⋆⊱༻π–₯Έ༺⊰⋆

What does matter is the pace you keep, that is still courage.

I remind myself that courage isn't always these dramatic acts of acrobats, for it is just often waking up to hydrate, get started in your day, pay your bills/rent etc.

Getting into where this is going? 🌌

I am like the majority of people that exist in this lifetime, that just wants to find their person. To continue to grow within oneself, to set firmer boundaries, to avoid problematic people. Maybe find new friendly faces, those long-term friendships in addition to my garden of flowers 🌼

Loneliness doesn’t mean I’m alone; it simply means I respect the boundaries of those I care about.

This feeling just calls for patience, self-love, and persistence, embracing gentleness in seeking new connections or rekindling the ones I’ve had within myself. It’s not easy to believe I’m worth more than I already think I am. I’ve tried so many times to put myself out there.

Many people are open about their pain, isolation, or sadness. Meanwhile, I keep mine private, sharing what I go through only with a trusted few. Maybe sometimes, I too will isolate, because I overwhelm myself.

I will always be enough.

I know myself...

I am loving, giving, attentive.

I am paragraphs, I love to share, I remember your favorite things.

I understand in this life, that some people are not meant to stay in your life. My unhappiness will always be consistent so long as I kept people in my life that reminded me that I was trying too hard. If we are to struggle in life, let it only be the things we cannot control... but our social circles? We can control those. When you get my age, you grow intolerance to unnecessary things.

Sharing even the tough stuff is an important part of any relationship. It can help you grow closer, build understanding, and set clear boundaries. Unfortunately, in the past, the people I dealt with often created unsafe spaces, dismissed me as overly sensitive, or made me feel like it was all just in my head.Yet, when they had a problem, I had no choice but to do the usual thing-listen and nurture their spaces. As you can see, these are not safe spaces, and that’s why recognizing your self-worth and identifying problematic people is so important.

In conclusion,

I’m grateful for the friendships I’ve cherished for years and for the close friends who understand my deepest struggles.

I like to form new bonds by getting to know someone at a slow, steady pace and seeing where it naturally leads. Whatever stays will stay—either way is fine with me. I don’t want anything that’s not meant for me to be forced to remain.

"Maybe you don't need more time to heal, maybe you need more experiences that show your nervous system a different reality."

Saturday, August 1, 2026

I Wait in the Soft Hours [poem]

 I count the quiet hours new and old and look occasionally to my inbox. 

It's your moment to unfold,

moments unravelling, such a detox.


I know you're there pulling up the pieces.

Sometimes the words are heavy, a jagged edge.

Like thinking up a meaningful thesis.

Safety is the only thing to look for,

may you find that space with opened doors.


I will not knock or demand a reply,

I won't ask you to match my step or pace.

Just know my anchor waiting for you, says I...

holding down our usual space.


Take all the winters that you're spirt needs. To heal the bruises, that the world put there.

I'll always be here waiting in the open air.

Tuesday, July 28, 2026

Future within the Constellation [poem]

 Your future is a constellation that has been spelling itself across the dark.

You are made of stardust...

Burning alive, until dust settles, glimmering, sparkling-a light that refuses to go out. Out from the stardust you that keeps burning, glowing.

Even after being shattered, smothered in the dark.

You believe in the path ahead, the courage that is your embers, threaded through the meteor showers, soft dawns, gentle rise, a nebula forms.

It is not the distant galaxy we wait for, it is your next breath, the next choice, the next small act of hope-that will tilt the orbit into everything you are meant to be.


Like a star remembering its own fire πŸ”₯❤️‍πŸ”₯

Monday, July 27, 2026

The Fireflies Vow [poem]

 To carry your own lantern when the moon forgets to rise...

When wings are frayed, and paths are lost,

and every bridge is dark, can't see ahead...

Do not fret, think of the firefly's light.

For dawn is dreaming through the night.

It is the stitch that mends the wing,

the sap upon the barkl

the starlings still sing,

comfort huddled in the dark,

Even in shadows that loom and creep.

There sits an ancient fire, that never

goes to sleep.

So let the darkness do its worse!

We are like fireflies who's glow courageously burst!

Sunday, July 26, 2026

Wandering in the Fog [poem]

 The heavy fog begins to clear; the quiet weight is letting go. The world that felt so sharp and near is softening into a glow.

It isn't miles in a day, but tiny steps into the light-

A sudden laugh, a word to say, a softer sleep through the night.

The color slowly wanders back,

the frozen rivers start to flow; you find pieces that you lacked before.

And give them time and space to grow.

You survived the coldest storms, the longest night you've ever

known.

And now the sun is coming, warm, to remind you have you've grown.

Sparks created from dust [poem]

 I loved you like a quiet universe, a small constellation I carried in my chest.

But even the stars burn out, ours dimmed slowly.

A soft betrayal of a fading light.

I learned heart break in the language of silence in the way your absence echoed louder.

I kept trying to stitch the sky back together, some constellations are not meant to be found twice.

Still… these ruins, this abyss, there is a gentle pulse. A reminder that new life is always formed.

Just like the galaxies that scatter, brighter.

To the ache that made me,

a luminous spark created from dust.

And that’s where I leave you… in the silence you taught me.

It is where my new form begins ✨

Sunday, July 19, 2026

Looking ahead (diary)

 A lot happened over the weekend. I’m feeling better and learned from three diagnostic tests at the ER that things could get worse if I don’t take action. So, I’m changing my diet and pushing myself to exercise more. I used to walk the fields all the time, but depression got the best of me—and I let it win.

I can get back on track.

Gallbladder 2mm stone, bone spurs (lower back arthritis), and fatty liver. I honestly, did this to myself (maybe not the bone spurs I am sure that was from retail). 

I am cooking more, I am stretching more, deep breaths! And, conscious of my breathing (stress = hyperventilation = c02 build up). 

I am going plant based πŸ«‘πŸ₯¬πŸ₯¦temporarily, until I reduce inflammation. Then, will opt to vegetarian with only the goal to put fish 🐟 back into my diet. I do not care for dairy that much, because I am also lactose now. My gut will bloat, and I will have a painful flare up.

Here's the take:

  • Stress can place well, STRESS on your body.
  • Do not fast longer than 16 hrs, or intentionally starve yourself thinking "Oh I am overweight, I can do it." It puts damage on your liver!
  • Do not entertain people that stress you out.

I learned a few things during my time in the ER and did my own research. Big pharma often pushes surgery and medication for issues that can be healed holistically. Medication or surgery should only be necessary when the body has gone beyond just struggling and entered more severe stages of damage. That’s why I want to take this approach for myself to avoid all those pharmaceuticals.

I can do this.

Tuesday, July 7, 2026

Manifesting Karma

 Karma always meant "what comes around goes around" in the usual everyday launguage amongst conversations. But the true mechanism of karma is the ✨️concept✨️ of which we understand, absorb, and practice. 

We speak about freedom, equality, being open-minded, etc. But do we really adhere to such concepts? For example, you can say you support open communication, but are you really doing that? And what is karma? We tend to feel more isolated or misunderstood or ( as if ) no one understands. This is interesting karma. We want the concept of what we understand. We want to absorb it's benefits but we sometimes forget to practice. 

Karma isn't easy. Lots of us want to practice what is good for us and want what is best for us. And often, those things like isolating or hanging back from having engagement can be beneficial. In isolation, I can recharge. Such is the notion of someone who connects spiritually to the creation of freedom in their personal interests or hobbies.

 Also, if you are the type to recharge by being around people, socializing-that will be your outlet. 

There is no wrong way to spend the time you choose. It is your energy. You must refill and expend it as you feel.Karma isn't discipline, nor is it ever punishment. It is the art of focusing energy 

✨️ Manifestation is lovely when we can water the parts of us that are suffering and highlight the parts of us that are blessed. 

Ultimately, it is freedom πŸ’– it is boundaries for yourself. Which path are you choosing? 

What kind of person do you want to be? 

πŸͺ·The karma we hear about is simply the creation of what we practice. Using the energies to enhance our experiencesπŸͺ·

Sunday, September 7, 2025

Dearest moon;

 To gaze upon the sky,

a tear among the stars.

How lovely it must be to shine,

to share a single light.

The moon must dance with stars,

so all may hold the night.

Dearest moon,

you hold my secrets,

all my sorrow and my want.

Why do I seek you in the dark?

Can I become as one with you,

and join the stars that gleam?

Let us hold hands and dance,

a brilliant, shared dream.

My reason on the earth

fades as your time in the sky,

this window pane so familiar,

its dusty edges meet my eye.

I fixate on the mold,

festering in the deepest corners,

as my yearning grows

like a wound that needs a healer.

Wednesday, September 3, 2025

To be alright (diary)

 

To be Alright by Aurora

"I want to feel it, to feel it. I don't want to fight, I just want to feel alright."

There is a lot of strife in my life right now, and I long to feel alright. I want to start living my life and not survive in life. 
I am always thankful for the things in my life now, but I know deep in my heart I cannot live this way. It reminds me of that movie, "Grave of the fireflies." produced by Studio Ghibli. Kenta, was staying at his mean-spirited aunts, and he had done everything he can to provide for himself as well as his sister. I remember particularly thinking, "If Kenta, just stayed with his aunt, he would have lived." But I also get it, sometimes you feel you can do so much better out of a toxic household. It's a risky choice to make, like is it your forever home? Will it work out? And so, I lived with my parents for a long time, because they needed me. But perhaps, I need to do what is best for me. And it's scary because I have nothing to my name and it's just a pipe dream. I know that I will need a job. I will need a place where I trust the individuals living there, but I have no idea where that is. So I have just been coasting the waves here, and trying my best.
I would often revisit what I am thankful for:
  • Thank you for this bed, that I sleep in.
  • Thank you for the food, I come across to eat, and the water that is provided.
  • Thank you for the couple of friends that are there for me, in my time of need.
  • Thank you, for these devices I can get lost in. All of these devices were donated by friends, because I do not have money to buy me nice things anymore. 
These are all things I think about, and I try not to gaslight myself either by saying it could be worse; however, it can be worse, and I think about that all the time. But I am also tired of telling myself that, because I feel like I am just trying to convince myself, that what I go through is okay. It is not. But I do.

I hope in time I will find opportunities in what to do for myself, for now I am trying to keep an eye out for anything, any sign, while trying to maintain destressing methods. I go out for some sunlight, I hop on the treadmill, and I try to stay connected to others. I just go where I flow. 

Wednesday, August 27, 2025

dear diary;

Diary, you hold the unshed tears
and every word vomit that escapes me,
a frantic prayer for disclosure.
There is no solution, I know,
but to speak what you feel into being,
what a wondrous, terrifying relief.
We thrive on this release, I think,
yet reclusion offers its own solace—
a quiet space to untangle sorrow,
to hold it close, to let it live.

Yesterday, I felt the floodwaters rise,
the sting of tears,
and shut the gates tight.
Later, a strange anxiety washed over me,
a query into my own existence.
It was then I knew:
I had to feel my own feelings.
As the eldest, I learned to be stone,
the glue, the strong one.
I listened to every woe
while mine remained unspoken.

When the world bled, I was a quiet witness,
a problem-solver,
a map of escape.
Perhaps this is my burden, my lore—
the nurturer in need of nurturing,
the child who outran her own childhood.
Still, I know I will be okay.
I have lived in a place
where love was just a word,
and hope, a relic from the trenches.


Monday, August 18, 2025

Where the flowers bloom

Some days, she is fierce and can move mountains. She is unstoppable, climbing the unknown. With gentleness, descending slowly with confidence and pace. 

Yet some days, she is a storm bracing for waves that will push against her. Sailing a treacherous force that will pull her under, apprehensive to fight against those waves. 

Gentleness... is hope and hope allows her to stay still, and her body will flow to the tides. Surrender my body and mind-this soul to the movements you cannot control. 

Eventually, she would see the rays of warmth that is the sun and a land peeked with luminous floral patches with lush green fields

Sunday, August 17, 2025

Picking up the pieces

The hate you give, it makes me hate you. But I can't hate you; I can only resent you. Until I no longer want to be a part of you. And when that happens—and it has—now I just wish you healing.

I'll be left here to pick up the pieces of me. Here I am again, questioning if I can be loved, as I put myself back together again, piece by piece. May the cracks be filled with vivid color, so maybe one day it will attract the one meant for me.

And as I color my emptiness, may I also learn from this hate you give. You cannot give love to hate. Hate can only heal itself or fester. Like wearing a mask and taking it off, revealing its true colors. But the colors are dull and unrefined. A lover stays to commit to the task of their art: to nurture.

Even a loving heart, when scorned, still wishes you well. Yet time reveals itself, there is nothing left here.

It wasn't hate in the end, what I felt. It was a desire to feel safe so we could both be whole. But here are the pieces of me. May the next hands hold me well. I will be whole once again.

Friday, July 4, 2025

You were never broken

 ⋆˙⟡ You can hold onto people all you want, but you cannot change them to love you the way you need them to.

Beg them to see your point of view, or give things time when clearly they are taking up yours.

You cannot paint over cracks, when they are hitting the floor with force creating them.

There is no growth, just war. They claim battle, on your soul, your body. 

And, we fight for this? And, we call ourselves broken for this?

You do not need permission from this type of validation; they already destroyed yours. 

You are not broken.

Healing will be messy

 ✧˖° I never heard of anyone who enters their healing era, and it suddenly becomes a road full of blossoming flowers or chittering animals flocking to your aid. 

It is fire and brimstone underneath your feet. You feel the pain, the aches taking a toll beneath your feet as if you walked miles, in search of a place to rest. Perhaps this is punishment, or what you exactly deserve-anger is within the body. It’s like you trapped in a body you cannot control, it is just your limbs that keep pushing you to walk over such harsh conditions, you know it hurts but you keep doing it nonetheless. Looking ahead, you just see more darkness more hues of red, blue, purple, an aura that a cold bleak place-how can fire and brimstone beneath my feet yet the air around me be so cold?

There is grief, that lives there too.

It engulfs you, swallows you whole, and before you know it tears are falling down your cheek. It is like you do not have control over your mind, nor your body anymore. You keep walking on a surface that continues to hurt you, and you there is nothing you do about the cold breeze hitting against you. Just the body, driven to walk further, the colors feel more intense, and the ground feels numb now. 

The feeling of emptiness can be overwhelming, like a void that swallows every ounce of joy and purpose. When thoughts echo, “So this is it? I am nothing now,” it can feel as if you're trapped in a cycle of hopelessness. It's as though your mind has become a relentless storm, each thought a gust of wind threatening to uproot your sense of self.

Curled up under the covers, the world feels distant. The blankets serve as a barrier, a sanctuary where the outside chaos cannot reach. Yet, this solitude is a double-edged sword. While it provides warmth and a semblance of safety, it can also amplify the silence that allows negative thoughts to grow louder. Isolation should only be used as a tool to recover, not a punishment nor an escape. 

“Wait, what am I doing exactly under here?” Confusion fills ones mind, and its fuzzy-like static on the television, curious yet irritating. Like the channels, on such a device you know to switch it up, otherwise you will continue to stare pointlessly at its static trying so hard to make out the picture-or maybe, surrender to it even as if nothing matters. Just let it happen, but do you really? No, you don’t. 

“I still have things I enjoy, I like my books, I like my video games, and I like my friends.” You plead, with yourself over and over. Slowly, getting out of bed It’s just bright, like looking at a television in complete high definition. You can see those colors still, those colors are now the canvas of objects, and life forms outside your window. The green on the trees, the blue in the sky, have the flowers were always this vibrant?  Were the birds this pretty before? You deny they were ever this beautiful, and maybe panic stirs within you. Why is everything so….. clear? As if I am seeing life for the first time? Perhaps you were hidden for so long, under those sheets you remember what anything looked liked in such a vivid hue such as fresh flowers against the basil colored grass. Give it time to heal, let your eyes adjust you are here.

“I am still here.”

Acceptance

You understand now? 

You had to walk through brimstone, until your feet were numb. You had to walk through a cold dead space, as if it was north pole itself! Buried in darkness, to which you called a safe space. Was it really safe? It was just hiding, or was it? Nothing made sense. It just felt right. Until, it was enough, and maybe it will never will be enough. Healing its messy, you will cry, you will hide, you will feel the need to justify all actions. But in the end, its just you versus you. 

Anger, sadness, guilt, shame-repeat. Until you accepted it all. Then you heal, then you fall again-then heal. 

But you will always come back here, a space of healing where its not just sadness, but fond memories that blossom forever-may you cherish all phases of those memories. 

Healing, It is always there for you, so ever kindly for you-be brave.

Sunday, February 16, 2025

Beyond the Stars & the Sea

“Beyond the Stars&the Sea”
By Cynthia Bustos

Beyond the stars, where galaxies ignite,
And oceans vast, in endless, starlit night,
A sorrow deep, a mournful, whispered plea,
Lamenting tears, eternally.

The cosmos sighs, a mournful, fading sound,
As tears fall down, on hallowed, sacred ground.
A whispered prayer, on winds that softly blow,
A lament for love, where shadows softly grow.

Across the void, a tear-stained, silent cry,
Echoes through the heavens, reaching to the sky.
For love betrayed, and dreams that fade away,
A poignant echo, lost in starlit day.

The universe weeps, with a gentle, tearful grace,
For broken hearts, in time and space.
A symphony of sorrow, soft and low,
Lamenting tears, beyond the stars and snow.

From distant worlds, a whispered, mournful tune,
A chorus of regret, beneath the moon.
The cosmos weeps, a testament to pain,
Lamenting tears, across the endless plain.

These silent tears, that fall on distant shores,
Reflect the ache, within life's open doors.
A timeless sorrow, etched in every star,
Lamenting tears, beyond the sea afar.