Reflecting on My Journey
Unforgettable Regrets
In the quiet depths of night, I pondered deep,
A life of choices made, a secret sorrow to keep. Regrets, they haunt me like a ghostly specter, In this labyrinth of memories, I'm the sole collector.
I wish I could rewind the tape of time, To undo the missteps, the moments I've mime. A symphony of sorrow, my heart does play, As I reflect on the chances that slipped away.
The paths not taken, the words left unsaid, In the recesses of my mind, they're forever wed. Each missed opportunity, a heavy stone to bear, I wonder if life would be different, if I dared.
Regret's bitter taste, a constant bitter pill, As I lament the dreams I couldn't fulfill. The friendships lost, the love that faded fast, In the theater of my mind, they forever cast.
But regrets, they're but echoes of the past, A reminder that life's a journey, not a race to last. I'll learn from my missteps, my heartache's price, And seek the brighter future, where regrets suffice.
For in the shadows of remorse, a lesson I glean, To cherish each moment, make the most of what's seen. Though the past is stained with tears I've cried, I'll embrace the present and let regrets subside.
So let this long, sad poem be a testament to me, That life's regrets, though heavy, cannot define my decree. I'll walk towards tomorrow, with hope in my stride, For in the tapestry of existence, I'll find peace inside.
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
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Comments (1)
Very reflecting poem but imagine if taking a different shift all these regrets were not such a great choices You never know probably it supposed to be like that being in the now in the present moment somehow may help to leave regrets all behind and start to smile for the new up in the now ;) much Love to You !