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"Who could be so lucky? Who comes to a lake for water and sees the reflection of the moon." Rumi


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Let’s Be Fit (Pt.1)

This is the first half of one of my signature spoken word pieces.
I will post a video of me performing this in Jamaica when I finally access it.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Diluting the way we live life,
Technology over powers our substantial beliefs:
Social feeds have transformed our egos;
Social needs are being ignored;
Self-absorbed; we care only for our selves.
Are we not our brother’s keeper?
Information flows through the internet
As situations take place,
And as we enter it, we watch in amazement.
And with a click of a button we go back to our lives,
Oblivious of what we witness,
Ignorant of why we should care,
With the audacity to say, “f*ck my life”,
We watch others in despair.
The East is raging in war.
The West is overflowing.
Our countries are slowly dying
While our leaders are ever growing.
And its mind blowing
How we live in these bubbles,
Pretending to know what we don’t-
To care for what we could care less for.
This ain’t no utopian world.
There’s no perfection in our social-political system.
NEWSFLASH:
There is no world peace.
We don’t live in “ideal socialism”.
There’s no such thing as inter-religious relationships.
Death and suffering is part of our existence.
 
But even though this is true,
Still I ask…
Why must we look the other way?
Why must we disregard the pain of others,
The struggle of many,
And the attempt at survival for some?
Let’s not get reeled into selfishness.
Bring back that substance that once existed in our hearts –
That truth we longed for.
Let our prayers be not of our wants and needs
But for our neighbors.
Let’s pray for that world peace.
We need to open our eyes,
Engage in society,
Protect our environment,
Live with integrity.
Physically, mentally, spiritually
Let’s Be Fit
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Fall and Flight

In mid October I finally go to see what real fall looks like. I was in Maryland for a wedding and on my last day I got to breathe the fresh air of nature in another city. I saw the beauty that lies in autumn colors and weather. I was mesmerized! I’m so used to palm trees and beaches, people half naked, busy streets, and hectic days. It was such a wonderful experience.

Here are a few shots of my last day.

I also took shots of my flight from Maryland to Boston and from Boston back home to Ft. Lauderdale Airport in South Florida. Check them out!

*All photos were taken w/ my phone. No edits, no filters.


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“On the Pulse of the Morning”

 A Rock, A River, A Tree

Hosts to species long since departed,

Marked the mastodon.

The dinosaur, who left dry tokens

Of their sojourn here

On our planet floor,

Any broad alarm of their hastening doom

Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

 

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,

Come, you may stand upon my

Back and face your distant destiny,

But seek no haven in my shadow.

 

I will give you no more hiding place down here.

 

You, created only a little lower than

The angels, have crouched too long in

The bruising darkness,

Have lain too long

Face down in ignorance.

 

Your mouths spilling words

Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,

But do not hide your face.

 

Across the wall of the world,

A River sings a beautiful song,

Come rest here by my side.

 

Each of you a bordered country,

Delicate and strangely made proud,

Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

 

Your armed struggles for profit

Have left collars of waste upon

My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,

If you will study war no more. Come,

 

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs

The Creator gave to me when I and the

Tree and the stone were one.

 

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your

Brow and when you yet knew you still

Knew nothing.

 

The River sings and sings on.

 

There is a true yearning to respond to

The singing River and the wise Rock.

 

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew

The African and Native American, the Sioux,

The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek

The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,

The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,

The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.

They hear. They all hear

The speaking of the Tree.

 

Today, the first and last of every Tree

Speaks to humankind.

Come to me, here beside the River.

 

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.

 

Each of you, descendant of some passed

On traveller, has been paid for.

 

You, who gave me my first name, you

Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you

Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then

Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of

Other seekers–desperate for gain,

Starving for gold.

 

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot …

You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought

Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare

Praying for a dream.

 

Here, root yourselves beside me.

 

I am the Tree planted by the River,

Which will not be moved.

 

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree

I am yours–your Passages have been paid.

 

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need

For this bright morning dawning for you.

 

History, despite its wrenching pain,

Cannot be unlived, and if faced

With courage, need not be lived again.

 

Lift up your eyes upon

The day breaking for you.

 

Give birth again

To the dream.

 

Women, children, men,

Take it into the palms of your hands.

 

Mold it into the shape of your most

Private need. Sculpt it into

The image of your most public self.

Lift up your hearts

Each new hour holds new chances

For new beginnings.

 

Do not be wedded forever

To fear, yoked eternally

To brutishness.

 

The horizon leans forward,

Offering you space to place new steps of change.

Here, on the pulse of this fine day

You may have the courage

To look up and out upon me, the

Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

 

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

 

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

 

Here on the pulse of this new day

You may have the grace to look up and out

And into your sister’s eyes, into

Your brother’s face, your country

And say simply

Very simply

With hope

Good morning.

-Maya Angelou

Video of Maya Angelou reciting her poem at Bill Clinton’s Presidential Inauguration in 1993: