Rean John Uehara

musings of a nighttime poet

fleeting thoughts

i have so much to tell you, friend
but i can’t find the perfect when
for in this story that we are in
im just a notebook
and you are the pen


the air crackled as i breathed in,
it seared through my lungs, throat, and skin,
all of a sudden my life was ablaze
just by the intensity of your gaze

where beauty lies

one could sit
for thousands of years
under a Japanese maple tree,
contemplating, comprehending
the true meaning of beauty
and may never find it;

but if one would sit
for just a minute
in front of you…

keep on walking

it matters not how slow you go,
or how fast others seem –
what matters is not saying no
in conquering your dreams.