the poet

 I have just met a woman who introduced herself as a poet,

My brain went immediatly into "WOW"

WOW because i am imprease at her self awareness and strenght

to do what she loves ina world where that is not verya ppreatiaced

WOW because in my internal monologo, I want to label myself as a poet too,

but I ack the self steeam 

and I am too self aware that my writing might be have the quality to get to the 

"I am a poet" statement.

Then i start the recollection... I have pubblished 2 poems,

I have won awards and contests, and I have read my poems in public...

but what makes a poet "A poet"?

I need to do propper research about this, as the scientiest I am...

and then, why I am proud to label myself as a scientiest but not as a poet?

because I went to universitiy and have a doctorate?

and I "do" science almost every day...

Then I let all this soliloquio go, and share my creative process with my new poet friend

and I am again in Awe, because she also have this feeling that she needs to put her thought in a paper,

it is like a fire that is going to ignate your brain if you don't get ride of all these words,

it is a burning desire to put all this ideas outside your brain,

and when it is done, when you had written everything you were regusgitating,

than peace arrives.

You are the bright proof of a live fully lived

 All the holes that things and people who are not here anymore have cause, are full now, nomore empty space and scary painful scars, 

You are cover on scars and you are more beutiful without the make up you use to cover them,

dont waste your time, they are too deep, we can see them under the conselear, under whatever you called that powder.

the ones who are worthy will love you as you are, no veil needed, no fake smiles,

just be you as amazing as you are, and as messed up, and the real ones will love you,

we will love you, the real work in progress scared you.

Reflexion

 The reflexion you see it might be reallity,

or it might be your perception.

Just step in front of the mirrow and open your eyes,

not only your physical ones,

but your soul too.

What you offer without any expectation,

is what it will come back to you.

That coffe you made for your lover first thing in the morning,

that food to go you cooked in a rush for them to have a snack,

all that will come back in a million gifts.

It had to die

 It had to die, to give the space to a fresh new start,

It has to be gone and evaporate because two things can not be in the same place at the same time,

And all moves all changes

So you need to open your hands and let it go, instead of holding it tight in your fist 

Give a high five to life and accept it.