I chase the decoys, fleeting and bright,
A world strewn with toys that dazzle the sight.
Deceptions and games weave through the day,
Till nightfall arrives, and truths slip away.


Something falters, a crack in the core,
Nature’s own riddle, unyielding, unsure.
Kindness must bloom where hardness takes root,
Yet chaos persists, sowing endless dispute.

How does it spin, this unending maze?
Life’s like a box where wild weeds blaze.
Courage, a spark, flares fierce in the space,
Confidence cuts with a savage display.

Nothing grows quick, though time doesn't stand still,
A constant pulse with a shifting will.
Scenes rise and fade, their edges blur,
Moments dissolve, yet their echoes stir.

What would the world be, in scarcity or wealth?
Would birds still carve skies in their boundless health?
Their wings sweep the heavens, a distant flight,
Carving their paths through the endless night.

Destiny runs deeper than surfaces show,
Its layers unfold where dimensions grow.
Beyond what we see, beyond what we trace,
A truth hums alive in the vastness of space.

Divisive tides clash, bold riders hone,
Creeping through shadows that cover the globe.
Somedays bring light, others weigh like stone—
What words can answer when meaning’s unknown?

I can help you
so much only
the rest is entirely
up to thee-

I've my problems too
in my life-journey
I had to struggle so frequently
to be free and happy

I wish you well--sincerely
wherever you might be
we're also cast into life's uncertainty
we've each to reckon with destiny

Generous and kind acts,
What is charity to you?
Give away my thing,
Now is it right to call it mine?

Service to other, who are we
servicing really?
What is the true nature
helping is being kind simply.

Toppled by feeling good,
Is it for others or self?
Elated within
Reminiscing with pride.

Do you wish to give away all of yours
To your kin or strangers?
trinkets of mine, now owned by so many
The resource from earth, passes on.

With our last breath, who are we
donating skin and eyes, the body will pass on
Who am I, a soul?
This life ends, but possession remains
What becomes of me, where do I go?

I was contemplating the interlude of breathing
the tease of the jasmine perfume
a wind without insight was resting in the hammock
a solitude round like the moon
the song of birds was inviting a blue exuberance  when
I had this dream... I dreamt streets flooded by blood
they seemed so real, like the amnesia of mercy
the intensity of red an amplifier for pain
violence this enclave of the soul hidden in plain sight
we watch wars on tv in the stillness of sofas
newborn tears claim the redemption of dawn
but we turn our back to the questions of time
no body line of thought but raw nerves,
blind tongues: as if our body is a world full of nothing
sometimes I have nowhere to hide from this feeling:
my blood is his/her/their blood