Destiny has arrived,
My time has come.
Despite there being,
much more to be done.
Ideas such as this,
come and go as they please.
Just as this life,
prepares itself to cease.
It came all too fast,
there was no time to prepare.
Swept off my feet as the very winds declare
"You who have lived,
a life short as can be,
Now it is time,
to decide who you want to be.
For good or for ill,
for the better or worst.
What you do is in your hands,
whereas your life shall disperse."
Remembered for what,
having done what, for whom.
What is it I feel,
am I willing to ****
My very own life,
precious as can be,
for this sole reason,
what will I die for with glee?
The answer is simple,
How could I forget?
To pass on my seeds,
to whomever shall have them.
Giving the world my most heartfelt contribution,
sharing with the world, a most wonderful creation.
The most subtle, archaic, truth lying within,
in these dying words, may all truly live.
The wish that I have, unfulfilled,
may all work towards, a future completely fulfilled.
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 8:49 AM UTC
I watch the vast expanse of space beneath me,
the beautiful earth, covered in green.
I stare upon the very skies,
filled with stars farther than what the eyes can define.
Secrets hidden,
truths amidst,
the vast forest,
apparent like mist.
I stare upon the endless ocean,
vaster than even the eyes can glimpse.
I stare upon the beauties of nature,
filled with creatures both young and free.
Yet all these things are but what I can see,
a fraction of nature's divine great beauty.
Beyond all words, and what I can think,
to describe its unmatched grandiosity.
Still, I try, even when I fail,
because nature is, something I behold,
to be powerful and free, beyond compare.
It makes me see how tiny I am.
A bare speck, or a semblance of dust,
completing thousands of minor tasks.
To keep myself going, as all creatures do,
in the vast history of what's about to ensue.
Nature's beauty, lying in thus,
is just like its cruelty, apparent in us.
Blending and molding, all actions in one,
into a future which all will become.
Corpses of maggots, dead bodies amidst,
a vast mountain of others, a skeletal heap.
All paving the path into the future of Earth,
who knows what Nature is about to unearth?
Beautiful and sad,
Cruel and kind.
What comes to be must eventually unwind.
Thus Nature stays true,
to its essenceless truth.
That all it is, is a perpetuating loop.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
The world breaks down,
into a cacophony of voices.
A symphony of strength,
a melody of choices.
The sum of our decisions and thoughts within,
give rise to a personality and character wherein:
Choices are made, and the path is sealed,
leaving no room except for one to yield.
To one's past decisions,
the actions which have wrought.
A series of consequences,
and what of it, a thought.
Of a better result than what has been seen,
Of a whole slew of decisions, however bad it may seem.
What we once chose,
become shackles that bind,
our very future,
into a dime.
We chase after shadows, figments of truth,
Of happiness and fulfilment, for good or for ill.
We choose a path, based on choices which shape,
whatever we become, for our happiness' sake.
Yet the pursuit of wealth, of money or success,
defined by others, and not by one's zest.
Will only lead to failure, a complete mess.
Of one's very own mind,
a confused wreck.
Not knowing the difference between what's good or bad.
The unending pursuit of one's own dream,
leads to an ending, that few have rarely seen.
For most seek power, and others seek wealth,
Few seek happiness, above all else.
The result of all these, what very few can see,
is the transformation of mind, from pure to unclean.
What is happiness, in truth,
but chemicals and flukes?
Based on this, people chase what's abstruse.
To succeed in society where happiness exists,
only at the top, while the rest subsist.
On scraps and inklings of what they deem to be,
a happiness that is perfect, worry-free and complete.
Thus they are trapped,
they don't begin to see,
the trappings of society,
so thorough and complete.
They don't see the happiness that lies in relief,
Or the pointlessness of striving toward what has yet to be.
Yet this very cessation,
of striving towards things,
is the very happiness that all wish to see.
Absolute freedom, an endless expanse.
Available right here, where we may truly rest.
Shaped by society to be narrow-minded and cold,
Let us break free, to be joyous and bold.
To enjoy the ecstasy that does not depend,
on cause and condition, or any expense.
Let us strive forth, to cease all attempts,
at seeking a happiness that requires us to attend.
May all of us enjoy, an eternity of rest.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
The stilling of the mind,
so temporary and fine.
Grinding and breaking,
grounding and filling.
All things are turning,
and in for the making.
With contact, conception.
From perception, creation.
All ideas we have,
arise from destruction.
The bits and pieces of things once born,
the emptiness left when what's complete is gone.
Creation, Destruction,
Conception, Termination.
The cycle of things continue in procession.
For what's destroyed has pieces,
once put together,
containing within it a perfection beyond measure.
Thus things are recycled. ideas broken to create,
new things put together, what was once mashed by fate.
Piece by piece,
and part by part,
whats broken is complete,
like all things at the start.
So what does it matter,
when things fall apart?
We rebuild the beginning,
Right from the start.
To create a new future,
a story that is bright.
A series of advancements,
we all know is right.
Though we know we all die,
that things don't last forever.
Yet we do so happily,
knowing it will only get better.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 9:00 AM UTC
The spreading of wings,
to cover the night of day.
The overbearing clouds,
keeping the sunrise at bay.
All things great, and all things good,
are things by all means, probably should.
Lead to happiness, prosperity, and joy within me,
or a simple contentment, a peace that will be.
Yet no matter what strives,
no matter what comes to be.
The characteristic of things,
is that they all cease to be.
Happiness. Sadness.
All good and bad.
Like the time of midnight,
vanishing in seconds.
Burning the fuels, and pushing the lies,
we strive ceaselessly, towards countless lies.
Of messages of a future we think we understand,
A glimmer of hope which we barely comprehend.
Needlessly striving, continually pursuing,
we arrive at the destination,
burning, smoldering.
Our wayward soul,
all the burns that follow,
and we look upon, to truly behold.
What we see are the joys,
temporary pleasantries,
a series of countless,
wastes and toiletries.
When we realize the path that we sowed has been done,
and all that we wish for, coming undone.
We begin to regret,
not knowing back then,
that a path which burns,
will lead to ashes in the end.
Yet it is not too late,
for there's always a chance,
that the truth will shine,
bright as the sun.
It is the moonlit night,
the salient breeze.
Which cools our hearts,
and soothes the feels.
When we release the burdens which have cindered us for so long,
what is left, is to go where we belong.
Peaceful and free, cool and placid,
it is then we can say, "Cooling down is worth it."
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC
The empty expanse,
now clear before me.
A vast landscape,
A wide variety.
Thousands of things,
which act without royalty.
All beings act thus,
out of free will,
making many choices, for good or for ill.
They take many actions,
depending on their mood or the weather.
Choosing casually thus,
they affect the latter.
For one's life is not a void,
decisions are not empty.
One man's choice,
will affect all of the laity.
Interconnectedness to all that will be,
decisions will reach far, like a king's decree.
Knowing thus, and seeing thee,
one begins to act with certainty.
Being grounded in knowledge,
Clear seeing of truth.
The awareness and wisdom,
that's not simply, aloof.
One begins to act,
with pure joy and tact,
in accordance to all that is good and fact.
These men are praised,
as men of value.
As people who act,
with poise and valour.
They will be remembered,
as men of their day.
When all they did,
was simply obey.
Nature's laws and creatures,
the meaninglessness of critters,
coming together,
to form a system of leeches.
Knowing thus and yet going beyond.
These men who obey,
are not simply pawns.
They transcend into legend,
stories told of their fame,
yet all they did,
was to be grounded in their name.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC
The breaking of things,
disappearing meanings,
for growth, and progress,
we strive nonetheless.
What was once old,
remade to the new.
What was once treasured,
now merely a tool.
A hintings of a time that once came to be,
A sign of a future that was once yet to be.
Time passes fast.
Things are not the same.
What was state of the art,
now merely maintained.
All things are like this,
thought to give us amidst,
a splattering of pain,
a dash of suffering,
a combination of stress and disharmony.
A certain happiness,
a joy that won't be missed.
A goal that is worthy,
of all the pains that we once dissed.
We slowly grow,
chasing after things.
Yet then we realize,
said things are now slow.
Everything that's made, will be like so.
Nothing is free, nor can be maintained when old,
for our happiness and joy, that which we sow.
All things break down, even I myself too.
What was once good, may become taboo.
To maintain we strive. to be happy we work.
Not knowing when this will be our last word.
Where we see that all things that have come to be,
just like our happiness, will cease to be.
So abandon this maintenance,
of this facade and countenance,
and live a life of honesty,
of complete abundance.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC
The shattered world vanishes beneath thee,
the emptiness, now pervading within me.
I see what was once there before,
now ceasing to be there at all.
What I once called,
my life and my family,
the cornerstones of my very identity,
turning into dust, a part of my memory.
Even this, ceases to be,
what was "forever", now just a "could be"
time erodes all that I deem,
important to no one, except me.
Yet this breaking,
deconstruction of worlds,
changes my perception,
for good or for ill,
into something beyond,
becoming adjourned,
into a part of something, new it may be.
My ideas begin to break,
my thoughts begin to shatter.
What was important, now doesn't even matter.
I recall a time, things were important to me,
now no different than the dust beneath me.
I then pay attention, to what is void and apparent.
The unchanging past, and the future in development.
I see what was broken, will be made anew,
and that there is nothing that won't be so.
Breaking my mind, breaking my soul,
breaking the heart that tears me so.
Overwhelming the part constituting this "me",
what then dies, is now reborn to see.
Of a time once past,
of a future yet to be.
Of a wholly new perspective,
rich as can be.
Our lives are such,
a deconstruction of the past,
to make a better future,
for every one of us.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
The echoes of the mind,
reverberate like bells,
across the empty, endless halls.
The corridors of memory,
containing pain and ecstasy,
pervade the emptiness,
within the noiseless forest.
An unending passage,
an unceasing path.
The uneasy silence that accompanies us.
Thus we thrive in noise,
dance and song,
never once remembering,
where it went wrong.
Occupying our minds,
with past and future things,
wasting the present and all that is,
what's left is nothing, simply this.
We cry in pain,
we cry in sorrow.
We feel the anguish that comes with tomorrow.
We feel the sadness and pent up regret,
and all the things that we left repressed.
Alone with nothing but thoughts in mind,
we forget the peace that's within our mind.
Between what's familiar and what is unknown,
we neglect the latter for a pain well known.
So what is the meaning, what is the point,
of choosing a noise, for which none would rejoice?
I empty my mind, I abandon my wish,
I simply relax, in what simply is.
For within noise is silence, within darkness a day,
hidden behind a curtain which may,
conceal a truth, or reveal a light.
It is your choice, will you stand and fight?
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
Thoughts of the future,
Visions of the past.
The present moment,
simply does not last.
Time is spent,
unceasingly,
on speculation and niceties.
The self-deception plaguing oneself,
The unceasing banter regarding wealth.
What is left, to truly spend,
is an echo, a fraction, of what we truly have.
Paying attention to useless things,
occupying the mind with countless daydreams.
Imaginings of futures never coming-to-be,
Recollections of a past causing hurt to me,
What is left is but a bare fraction,
the actual time that is spent on the present.
Wasting away the gifts of time,
we squander the present, however benign,
on the past and future, or thoughts of the present.
Rather than seeing what is truly inherent,
the very impermanence that defines the present,
We miss our chance,
the biggest chance there is,
to shape our future, however bleak it is.
As with countless drops one can fill a ***
day by day we can always walk.
For the path of a thousand miles begins with a step,
with the beginning at hand, the end we will beget,
the very future, we will seek to protect.
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 8:56 AM UTC