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  Oct 2015 Arianna Darshani
ryan
Last night,
I held the ocean's hand,

It was soft and giving,
Nothing like the mysterious depths you described,
That body of water was created inside your mind,
You built her up so high, she couldn't help but fall,
Couldn't help but violently crash onto the rocks below

Now she's bruised and cut, with precious pieces missing,
But I'll be the sun that rises and sets for her every night and day,
and I am not afraid of what lies beneath,
Because she's seen my face, even the masks I try to hide,

I smile and kiss her cheeks,
She is 70% water and I will drink her before drowning in the warmest depths of her skin,

Perhaps the moral of this story is that your ocean,
was never meant to be crossed,
It dwells like a black sea, with secrets and the broken hearts of others,
When the night is betrothed to the shadows,
He does not betray her and seek out other light,

But you did,

And now the ocean is gone,
Her gentle waves have reached a safer shore,
and I will keep her here with gentle truth and love

The ocean isn't just beautiful at night, but she is full of rage and fury,

And at last,

She is mine.
Good things come to those who wait and tell the truth about who they are. A man who opens the heart of a woman without the intention to hold it in his hands is not a man.
some people never leave.
they're always inside you,
crushing your glass bones,
and setting fire to your paper heart
©rainecooper
Arianna Darshani Sep 2015
Gout.
I have heard of this obscure disease
Maybe in a Dicken's Novel once
A disease of indolence and wealth
Of red meat and alcohol
Of excruciating pain with no cure.

It winds up being in
The top ten most excruciating conditions
And my husband of 28 years has it big time

We are neither indolent or lazy
We don't drink hardly at all
We have almost no risk factors

Now this gout is chronic
Driving my husband from sleep
To the ER at 3 am this morning
Try prednisone this time. Sigh.

Aging is not fun
There is something as bizarre
As chronic gout
Who would ever guess
Such a weird thing
When you are 25?

I feel entirely powerless to help
Other than to pick up the slack
Do more chores,
Bring him pillows or an ice pack.

Enjoy your youth because
We are feeling it at only 53

The Buddha says we will all suffer
We all become older.
We all get sick
We all die

The mastery lies
In having pain, without it
Turning into suffering
But you can meditate a lifetime
On one koan
And still never achieve
Liberation.

When I was young I took it for granted
Smooth muscles gliding past each other
Tolerance for imperfect situations
And a general ease about life.

If I had to do it over again
I would have appreciated
My youth more than I did
Now that it is gone, it is most
Revered,
like the Buddha.

Maybe next lifetime
it's getting scarier by the HOUR
OUR world will never see PEACE
PIECE by piece we're overpowered
overpowering us as our fears increase

we sit idle as hatred BREWS
BRUISED by the war torn SCENE
SEEN as only pawns to lose
losing all of our hopes and dreams
i capitalized the homophones for beginning writers, who may not know what a homophone is
some people already have a view, a light over the horizon.
their feet are dipped into an ocean that holds many of their secrets,
but they become bored with the mundane & seek more meaning to their existence.
perhaps someone else's ocean will taste differently.
perhaps they'll finally learn how to swim.
willing hearts & open hands accept these travelers because maybe they're an adventurer just like me.
but really they're just passing through.
they only want to experience new flavors, to swim in unknown seas.
they need to escape but they'll never leave.
cowards perhaps, to temporarily give up the comfort of the river and sink into the oceans' depths.
but the ocean is not quiet & neither is the wind.
she will shred your sails & sink your ship.
she will not forget how you stirred her waves into a tsunami and left her there to drown.
when the night becomes indifferent, seek change first within yourself.
you will never find light in another if you do not love your own hands.
do not take arms you know you will eventually let go of.
do not awaken hearts you cannot call your home.

and so we go on. and the ocean waits alone, for the next light on the horizon.
©rainecooper
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