Cloister

If only

I could be cloistered in The Cloisters

That beautiful structure

Standing in the center of a gorgeous park

At the highest point in Manhattan

A park so peaceful

A place so open

A world so green

Looking out over the Hudson River

With the sun shining on the water.

If only

I could look out

From the top of the stone ramparts

Filled with history

That tell the story

Of a massive battle.

Fought closer to home

Than we could feel

From our classrooms in the West.

Out here

This battle

Took place

Where. We. Are.

When it is no longer far away

We have no choice

But to take note.

Remember.

History. Is. Now.

Make it what you want

The future to reflect on.

Can’t is a word that I often said.

Can’t is a word that was stuck in my head.

Can’t was a cop-out,

A way to get by,

While letting life,

Pass me right by.

But what if I could,

Asks the engine inside.

What if I found,

I could no longer hide?

Then what would happen?

Would I look up at the sky?

Would I grab the opportunities

That were passing me by?

Would I fly like an eagle,

Or soar like a bird?

Or would I be afraid

They would think I’m absurd?

But if I’m like a bird

I belong in the sky.

Not stuck on the ground,

So eager to fly.

My wings are not broken,

They’re simply afraid,

But now I must try

For what I was made.

 

 

RDP Jueves: Explosivo

Cuando pienso en la palabra explosivo pienso en:

Ira roja, ardiente y ardiente.

Fuegos artificiales.

Pasión.

Obstinadamente dedicado.

Viviendo en el mundo de tu oficio

Tanto que el mundo exterior se desvanece.

Es solo tú y el papel.

Tú y tu instrumento musical.

Tú y tu mundo

Nada más puede romper tu enfoque.

Vives en tu imaginación hasta que el trabajo está hecho.

Como los pintores famosos

No puede distraerse del arte dentro de usted.

Eres explosivo. 

 

 

When I think about the word explosive I think about:

Red, hot, fiery anger.

Fireworks.

Passion.

Doggedly dedicated.

Living in the world of your craft

So much that the outside world

Fades away.

It’s just you and the paper.

You and your musical instrument.

You and your world.

Nothing else can break your focus.

You live in your imagination until the job is done.

Like the famous painters

You can not be distracted from the art inside you.

You are explosive.