They say that when you find true love, you have also found your heaven here on earth. That's why I believe that heaven will also guide you towards me. But I'm getting impatient, waiting and regretting every passing moment, not being able to hold your hands in times when you need someone by your side. Not being able to comfort you when you're feeling down. I know that, like me, sometimes you feel like the world has let you go too. So forgive me if, in those moments when you feel that way, I'm not there to support you. If true love and heaven have a deep connection to each other, I strongly believe that we are also destined to be like them.

I once asked, In which corner of heaven are you? Are you close to the sun? Or maybe you're just beside the moon, watching over me every time darkness falls. That's why wherever I go, you always seem to follow. But you might also be with the stars, where many desire to possess you. Fortunately, when the time comes, you will be mine. So while you're not here yet, I will stand with the righteous soldiers of our nation. I will fight when needed and defend what is just. So that when you arrive, we can freely enjoy a peaceful life together. So while you're not here yet, I wholeheartedly pray to our creator. May goodness reign in my heart as a person and, above all, as his child, so that when we finally meet, I will also be a good partner to you.

Even before we cross paths, I want you to know that you are always in my prayers. And I will cherish your love forever, which is why I long to live repeatedly. I want to shout to the world that I love you deeply, but I will patiently wait for you. And when our hearts finally meet, I will whisper to you that you are my world. I will just wait, while you're not here yet."


© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved

Some poems don't
work.
No amount of
tweaking will
fix it.
You can't finger it until
it comes.

Push the delete
button and
start over.
You write because
you have to.
It's in your cells.

You're a salmon,
swimming up
stream to stay
alive.
You write because
the nuthouse yawns,
and beckons.
It waits.

The cage door is
open, and the
water is
tainted with
mercury.
Fly away, or die.

If the writing
isn't working,
go fishing,
eat a tangerine or
some brussel sprouts.
Be livid
Be silly.
Study the *****
and the orchid.

Think about what the
color black tastes like, or if
pink whispers or yells.
And write until
the trivialities take
flight from your
life.
In the surrendering,
triumph will come.

Closure
Is an illusion
Science shows us
Life is constantly
In flux

Cant keep waiting
On a certain moment, event,
Or epiphany
To button up our suffering
In a neat little package

We've hung on to this hope of
AFTER
Only "AFTER" is when I'll be healed
Enduring days won't be devastating
And suddenly I'll be this beacon
Of strength, I'll be able to endure anything

In truth,
Grief's a heartache
That never really goes away
The brain starts to play
With what's "fact"and whats "fake"

If this is the way
Then where am I going?

Out of all the choices in life I could’ve been anything,
but I only wanted to be yours.

- whenever you’re ready I’ll be here

And your silence hums like a ringing in my ear.
My hand extended in mid-air
and yours lingering by your side.
Needed you then,
needed the sound,
but away, away, away you went.
Nothing left unsaid,
nothing said at all.
I just meditate on the lifeless air,
and talk myself in circles.

Waiting is living

half, putting deeds off, looking --


in front of oneself.