“Tell me the story of how the sun loved the moon so much that he died every night just to let her breathe.” She asked. “Once during a time when the world was simple, the sun shone brighter than anything. The people were happy and rejoiced every time the sun shone. He brought them joy and hope, he was even the source of their warmth. But he was lonely, all by himself in the vast skies. He would look down at the people dancing in his radiance and wonder if he was simply destined to a life of solitary. That was the price he paid for being the brightest, he reasoned. Then there was the moon. As the Sun grew weary and began to disappear, she would rise into the sky, flanked by millions of stars. Her radiance was a sad kind of beauty, one that went unnoticed as the people slept. The stars watched her with wishfulness, hoping that one day they would get close enough so she wouldn’t feel so empty. But they couldn’t. The moon was untouchable, surrounding herself with a blanket of darkness throughout the cold nights. Until one day the Sun was sliding out of the Heavens, he caught a glimpse of her. She was peeking up, a rare side of her being exposed to the light. And while the Sun could shine, he knew the moon could glow, and a faithful whisper trumped an arrogant shout any day. So just as the stars were wandering into the night, the sun fell in love like a snowball hurdling down a mountain. How he wished to see her more than the fleeting moments he shared with her at both dawn and dusk. But the moon was untouchable. Incurable. Unfreeable. “Go she whispered to him one of those nights, her voice as sweet and as sorrowful as the last light of the morning, “Go and let me breathe, for you and I have decided fates. You illuminate the day and I cast a glow on the night. We will never be. Our connection would go against what all people believe, all they know. During the summer he would just stay a little while longer in case she changed her mind. But it was of no use. “Don’t you dare abandon your blessing of light for my darkness.” And those were the last words the moon was strong enough to speak to the Sun.” I responded.Continue reading “The Sun & the Moon 🌝🌓🌚”
You’ve climbed so far up this cautious tree trying to rip off the forbidden heart that would let you devour this love in peace. Sometimes you can’t reach out to people you’re fiending for because the rope you let go of placed that fear in you. Torn eyelids and a ripped soul, is this what happens when they’re not still yours? Sickened with the thoughts of forcing yourself to not think of a past that haunts you. Knowing no one encouraged you to keep finding your love is the reason you’re lost now. Your molecules worsened and dissolved into a liquid making the bond you two shared lose its original form. An ocean filled love turned into dusty sand neglecting you from ever wanting to be near the shore. You crashed into their love like your belt wasn’t fastened, now you just visualize scenes with someone who’s a part of your past film. It’s hard to see someone as your world when you can’t be a part of their planet’s view. Being filled up to the point that you’re unable to spill out your feelings without hearing your glass is full. How do you win a game when all your pieces are scattered all over a broken chest? Religion and differences kept you stranded as a prisoner who was not obliged to the only smiles as something to be witnessing. Craving their warmth while shivering away in an unreasonable home. Your pupils enlarging to the point where you wish you couldn’t see no more. Lost in a dark imagery portrait displaying your broken soul. Losing all hope of jumping out of this frame and capturing a heart without saying your camera broke. Your solid love was like a wax figure that has now melted into an inflammable view. The only tunnel left is too hazardous for you to walk in but you keep their candle lit in your palms knowing you’ll have to fume it soon. Extinguishing a flame that let you see light is the hardest especially in the darkest times. It’s not easy to repair a bond that is meant to stay torn and even harder to erase an image that is stained on your soul. You can stitch up your past as much as you want but knowing you can never be with them will always remain a permanent wound.
Forbidden Love — the love you can’t keep
“She was free in her wildness. She was a wanderess, a drop of free water. She belonged to no man and to no city.
With her enchanting songs, her rare beauty, and clever tricks, this wild ‘wanderess’ ensnared my soul like a gypsy-thief, and led me foolish and blind to where you find me now.
And without knowing why or how, I found myself in love with this strange Wanderess. Maybe I was just in love with the dream she was selling me: a life of destiny and fate; as my own life up until we met had been so void of enchantment. Even the memory of cradling her in my arms is pure euphoria.
She was a free bird one minute: queen of the world and laughing. The next minute she would be in tears like a porcelain angel, about to teeter, fall and break. She was brave, and I never once saw her cry out of fear. She never cried because she was afraid that something would happen; she would cry because she feared something that could render the world more beautiful, would not happen… She believed if I gave in to make her fortune become realized, the world would be ultimately profound and beautiful. I guess I held out because I feared the realization of her fortune would mean the destruction of us together. And each time she cried, I fell a little more deeply in love with her.”
Roman Payne, The Wanderess
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
One night as I was aimlessly scrolling through one of my social media apps I came across a profile that instantly caught my attention. It was a picture of an attractive young woman with dark hair and light colored eyes.
Her natural beauty may have been what initially captured my interest, but there was definitely an undeniable magnetism about her. I couldn’t quite pin point what it was, so I allowed my curiosity to lead me thru other social media platforms until I eventually found myself on her personal blog. There I slowly began to scroll through each entry, reading and absorbing her words with true interest and awe.
After a few of her blog entries, I found myself completely immersed in her colorful world of words. Captivated and consumed by the tender way she expressed her intensions, emotions and complex convictions. I felt a sort of kindredness – a deep understanding that i I could not deny.
She was insightful, dark, empathetic, intuitive and sensitive. She had a natural flare for story telling and a raw, relatable brokenness that made her creative expression refreshingly unique.
I felt like I knew her and she knew me. It was as if we shared the same darkness, light and emotional depth. Both of us..just a world of constant contradictions, heartaches and secrets. Struggling to remain vulnerable and honest in a world full of pain and lies. We both yearned for a deeper existence, a soulmate connection and divine revelation to reveal to us the meaning of life. She understood what I have never been able to express to new or current lovers because of my past lingering pain. She understood me.
It was impossible to deny the mystical connection I had to this beautiful stranger.
I was so moved by her honesty that I decided I had to contact her to tell her how much I appreciated and admired her work. After all it’s not everyday you experience such an incredible connection and I wanted to reach out and thank her for it.
But just my luck, I came to find that this kindred spirit had been subdued by an even deeper darkness. And sadly, I’d never have the opportunity to meet the beautiful dark haired woman that touched my soul…
..At least not in this lifetime..
After a quick google search I came to discover that the old soul that I identified so much with was actually the victim of a vicious murder that took place two years ago in Queens, New York.
Apparently it had been a highly publicized case that was followed religiously by her loved ones and social media. Much like the tragic murders this country has witnessed this past month, this too became a case that touched so many people.
She was incredibly loved by everyone that knew her, and the goodness I found in her writing seemed to only be a portion of all that she carried inside of her. At thirty years old she had already traveled the world, earned a masters degree in speech pathology and was an aspiring writer. She loved life and it clearly loved her back, which makes the reality of her premature death so unbelievably tragic.
The name of the woman was Karina Anne Vetrano.
After reading all the gruesome details of the case I have to honestly say that my heart broke for this poor woman, her family and loved ones. I cannot imagine the burden and pain of this never ending loss. Living with knowing all the fear she must’ve felt as she struggled for her life and having to accept a loss none of them ever saw coming. I have no idea how I would find peace ever again knowing someone I loved suffered so brutally at the hands of someone so sadistic and evil. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to forgive the monster or truly ever heal.
I commend her parents and friends for taking matters into their own hands and actively getting involved and keeping her memory alive in the media. Because of their continued efforts, relentless persistence, ongoing inquiries to the press and law enforcement, Karina’s murderer, Chanel Lewis, was apprehended six months after her death.
He’s facing life in prison if convicted of the 13 counts of murder and sexual abuse.
He claimed it was a random and impulsive murder, admitting to having anger issues and hatred toward women. On that particular day he had gotten into an argument with someone else, saw Karina running and chose to take all his frustrations out on her.
Another case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
He may have robbed these poor parents of their daughter, and prematurely ended this poor girls life. But he couldn’t stop her legacy from touching the world with her wisdom, truth and light.
Monsters live among us, and sadly I learned early on that to survive in this world, as a woman, I’d have to live with a certain degree of paranoia, anxiety and fear. Being a female, means I DON’T have the luxury of feeling safe in my own skin as I walk alone to find my car in a dimly lit parking garage or accepting rides from friendly acquaintances of the opposite sex. Being a woman is hard as it is, but trying to find our way in a man’s world is even harder.
When the murder occurred Karina was out jogging, training for an upcoming marathon she was planning to run with her father later that year. Unfortunately he could not join her that fateful day because he had fallen sick the night before. He encouraged her to wait a day so he could recover, but she was convinced she’d be fine going it alone. She was trying to be healthy and take care of herself when she was murdered in her own neighborhood, an hour before sunset, just a block away from her parents home. Petite Karina didn’t stand a chance against her vicious attacker that beat her unconscious, sexually assaulted her and then strangled her to death.
And what’s even worse?..
Her poor father, a NYC firefighter retiree, found her lifeless body four hours later, after he’d took it upon himself to go out looking for her after she stopped responding to phone calls and texts. I’m sure the horror of finding his daughter the way he did that night will haunt him for the rest of his life! No pain can compare to the loss of a child. No comfort or relief can be found with time or closure for those who have lived through this kind of pain. My heart and prayers go out to you, Phillip Vetrano.
Life just isn’t fair and neither is death.
I wish I could’ve met her while she was still alive. I think we would have had a lot in common. Between the both of us, I’m sure we would’ve had plenty of battle scar stories about love to write and talk about. I wish I could’ve thanked her personally for helping me bring to the surface some of the heavy emotions I’ve kept bottled inside so long. Even in death, her words continue to bring new life and meaning to those she never even met for others just like me.
I pray God grants her and her loved ones the comfort and peace they need. I feel so fortunate to have come across her heartfelt words and had the opportunity to be touched by her undeniable light.
Someday I hope to meet you on the other side..
“The majority of my life is on paper, I write to savour the moments that I’m terrified will get lost and forgotten in time if I don’t document them.”
July 12th, 1986 – August 2nd, 2016
I’ve been away for way too long, but I promise I have plenty of content coming your way that I’m excited to share! So please bare with me as I slowly but surely bring you up to date on all the many changes in my life. Xoxo
“After all the thousand times I’ve told you I love you, how could you let one conversation break your faith in me?…I could hear it in your voice, that you honestly believed that I didn’t want you anymore. The most absurd, ridiculous concept—as if there were any way that I could exist without needing you!..I love you. I have always loved you, and I WILL ALWAYS love you..
…When I told you that I didn’t want you, it was the very blackest kind of blasphemy”..
…The bond forged between us was not one that could be broken by absence, distance, or time. And no matter how much more special or beautiful or brilliant or perfect than me he might be, he was as irreversibly altered as I was. As I would always belong to him, so would he always be mine.”