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 14h
Inewdip
If friendship was a flower
Pretty and full of colours
I'd be colorblind
For a while I'd lose sight

If friendship was a song
Pitched with highs and lows
I'd only hear the lows
Filled with sorrow and flaws

If friendship - i could touch
Tender warm and soft
I'd never want to brush
There's a fear that keeps me locked

If friendship was a smell
Floral and fresh
My breath - I'd hold
Cuz I'd rather choke

It's the worst of all loves
Strongest of all bonds
Paints a black stain
Leaving eternal pain
(my idea of friendship cuz I'm heartbroken at the moment 🙂)
 14h
Srishti
Simultaneously,
a drop of
time fell
on a
barren land.
goes on… goes on…
created a
pond.
goes on… goes on…
created a
lake.
goes on… goes on…
created
half a sea.
goes on… goes on…
created
an ocean.
goes on… goes on…
created a
planet.
goes on… goes on…
created a
galaxy.
goes on… goes on…
created
millions of galaxies.
goes on… goes on…
created a
universe.
goes on… goes on…
created uncountable
universes…
goes on… goes on…
And still,
it goes on…
time and universes will never end
Sky painted in red
Yellow patches – warmth around
Broken but that light............
lately,
i've been down—
and i don't understand
why it still haunts me.

i thought
this would be
the last time.

i was ready
to move on,
but there was
one last storm
i didn’t account for.

i know—
pain isn’t linear,
and sometimes,
the thunder rolls
before the rain
takes form.

but love
was never meant
to last,

not today,
not tomorrow—
not even
if you asked.

so baby,
i ask of you:
let this love
live in the past.

there won’t be
a final act—
just two hearts
moving forward,
intact.
let this love (live in the past)

a quiet goodbye.

not out of anger—just out of finally knowing when to let go.

this one’s about the storm you didn’t see coming,

the closure you had to create yourself,

and the kind of love that’s better left behind.
 Jul 9
Pagan Paul
The candle flickers silent as night
as an owl hoots at the dark.
Launching into flight from on high,
poised to strike at its mark.

From the window the flame shines
shredding shadows to and fro,
attracting the moths and fireflies
to bathe in the soft light glow.

The owl shrieks as it strikes
and the candle continues to shine.
I sit, watch and marvel at the show,
lost in the spectacle for hours of time.
For hours of time.

(15/07/23)
I had the title of this poem in my notebook for over a year before the words came to me. Odd, as usually I write a poem and the title comes out of that!
 Jul 6
Agnes de Lods
Thousands of eyes,
looking at my sleeping body.
After my false awakening,
I saw them,
still trapped in the dream.
They were recording
my every painful breath.

Eyes without eyelids,
dense, dark air.
I became an unexpected glitch
in the imposed system.
They just didn’t know
what to do with me.

The spiders around my bed
were watching over
the meaning of my existence.

I had only a deep need
to find a place
for all elements
of the broken vessel,
the black pupils,
the witnesses
to my faltering walk.

I am not yet a butterfly.
I am the caterpillar
in a long ego tunnel.

Thomas was right.

To heal,
I must keep going
and going
until all becomes
one seamless whole,
ready to transform
into a flying being,
free from the chain of wounds,
sacrificed
on the altar
of broken Ego.
Thomas Metzinger
Thomas Merton
 Jul 1
Karen
Soft butterfly wings
Caught upon a spider's web -
Entangled the heart
 Jun 19
Agnes de Lods
You and I—
we feel,
we love,
we regret.
Yet we remain
the binding particle
of a formless self.

They divide us,
pit us against each other.
We found safety
for thirteen days.

Before dawn,
we felt the breath
that seeps through cracks
into minds like a narrow thread of force,
and the fog spilled out.

Above our heads, false stars
created by warm bodies
to annihilate
what passed through the gate
of a birthing woman.

We write words to conjure
happy endings
at the ball of extermination
that tears apart
the pulsing light
of a thousand veins.

Please sit with me
before you go
Do you feel it—
the mourning procession
of human beings
transforming into a state of fission
and drifting away?

And a sigh is so sad
of trembling atoms
when the victim becomes the destroyer.

Feel the force of the fall,
and do not shatter hope
even if the world
trembles to its core
because there is still YOU,
still ME,
and still

OTHERS.
Hania Rani Journey-from xAbo: Father Boniecki
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