reflection of woman s eye on broken mirror
Photo by Ismael Sanchez on

I miss you

It was the edge from where I stood when it broke

The fall wasn’t so bad,

enough to dampen checks with tears that stain and prompt rational considerations to which are unwarranted  

You could’ve been the one, 

to grow old with,

share ambitions,

dream with

You should be my best friend

Fate demands otherwise

What a cruel world that is lived denying happiness to one in most need of it

I understand all that you are,

never to change a thing 

I’d dance for you,

till the dawn of time,

if only fate would allow


the edge broke,

and I fell 



As some have guessed, I’ve been writing, creating presentations, rearranging, and remodeling the website.  Clips have been either added or reorganized, posts are updated, and now working on the layout along with slight changes to the template design. It’s a tiresome task yet, important nonetheless.

You may be happy to know after adding more travel copy, my website traffic more than doubled! Something to seriously consider in the future as I’m working on a piece about my travels to Belize and a cruise to Mexico this winter.

Requests for my services have also increased, adding to the workload but as the title suggests, the busier the better. With the weather soon to be changing, I wouldn’t have it any other way than to be engaged with my work.

I can’t stress enough how much I enjoy writing, no matter the topic. I become so engrossed in the research, the subject matter turns into an awesome story. It amazes me when information is analyzed and then evolves into knowledge that can be related for others to learn.

I’ve recently signed on with a freelance platform where I find myself querying for hours. At first, it worried me that I would find the proposals tedious and daunting but that is not at all the case. With every cover letter written specifically for each gig,  the more exciting it is to be committed to the page.

No longer does the curser on the screen intimidate, causing anxious fits of writer’s block.  Happily, I face-off the empty page and begin my descent to another world, some other mindset, or delve elbow deep into research of a topic I know nothing about yet somehow convince my client I’m their go-to person. Without fail, I deliver and though sleep-deprived, I couldn’t be happier.

I want to thank everyone for the support, old and new to my webpage. This is a great online community to mingle with and I hope to be around the blogging world for a long, long time.

Best Wishes,





Is our life set in the threshold of realism, as in do we truly exist?

Does anyone definitively know if we are in fact, real?

Remember that proverb, “To know life is to live life,” or is it the other way around?

In any case~

What if we are mere figments of imagination? Conceivably a dream or reflection in the mirror, like an imitation of what might or would have been. If the universe was created by a simple flight of fancy, and if that fancy becomes monotonous, will all life come to its final conclusion and be forever removed from existence?

And if this is true, and I’m genuinely not here, then it’s impossible that you’re reading my little rant and therefore we are delicate fabrications allocated into sections that make up an entire narrative. But not of our own.

Impossible, right?

So many questions, too few answers. Which in turn leads to the day-old query as to which the answer permanently eludes, “What is the meaning of life.”

Perhaps that’s not really the question. Maybe, just maybe, that is the answer.

There are so many who are broken and adrift who contemplate this lost cause when the cause was never fair-minded, to begin with. Making the what, in this case, irrelevant because if what doesn’t exist and if there’s no logical reasoning in regards to the truth, then such a question serves no purpose. Therefore the only possible conclusion is, “just live.”

Like the proverb suggests, carry on and reject the possibility that one day this life will end at any given moment, terminating all that coincides within the illusion. Even if every last one of us is a fantasy caught in the swiftest of rivers with no hope of escape, life implores us to flourish, gain experience, thrive, and fall madly in love.

And there we have it, problematic actions with countless, frivolous interpretations to come full circle.  Therefore the question arises once more and will do so for always.  So I ask this, if the question returns back to itself, then isn’t it possible that the answer resides in its own uncertainty?

In Memory of Montserrat Caballé

Watch “Barcelona” – Montserrat Caballé and Freddie Mercury 

October 6, 2018, we lost one of operas finest.

A live performance from 1988, Freddie Mercury, of Queen, sings a historical duet with opera star, Montserrat Caballé.

Of all the beauty in the world, none so outshined soprano, Montserrat Caballé. Her voice filled the earth with the sound of heaven. Now, she sings to all in heaven.”    ~Shell de Toni


I had fallen once,

into a dark oblivion of the most serene slumber time has permitted

The void enclosed in emptiness,

with no recollection of consciousness nor perceptions of being

Derived to an end nonetheless commits to embark,

yet considers no motive other than invasive methods to pull reveries out from under a door eternally locked by its author

And as I fell under the beat of my heart commenced slowly to pause,

forgoing the resolve to live

If this was approaching death I should find it troubling


there was nothing

The insight of a credulous acquaintance left only ignorance as existence ceased despite a pending delayed awakening

Only to become aware of a faint indistinct tone bellowing my name

It was a designation exclaimed repetitively by a nurture in revival demanding my response,

only to reciprocate questions in regards the results

At long last,

responses eventually set about disputes as to why

Then comprehension of the significance of being nothing




Unaware of my own presence results in harsh realizations of the inevitable yet untimely expiration of my vivacity

Simply to be so apathetic of one’s erudition of dying

There was no pain,

I saw no light,

nor were there sensations of coldness or warmth

If it were death,

the knowledge of it eluded me

Wariness may be the condition poisoning my considerations in which consequences supervene

And now instigates questions of religion and faith for my experience was of voided darkness

I had fallen once,

into nothing