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  Aug 2020 jordan
Shubhankar Mathur
Maybe I was wrong searching for the brightest star in the sky,
When I could have found the entire galaxy in your eyes.
A love worth the depth of an entire galaxy - myth or reality?
jordan Aug 2020
golden chains bind we the people
ancestrally smelted and forged
lashing us to imagined steeples
that we think were built by our lord

a deep seated need to be bound
like craving for love and security
in all can always be found
although veiled with obscurity

like the mountains that rise so high
as if reaching for distant crown
when piercing the cold blue sky
form the storms that then tear them down

that which was started will always end
birth leads to life and then leads to death
and while life itself will fight to defend
its path always leads to the final breath

so we clamor and fight to feel peace
while facing omnipotent demons
and for a moment their whispers cease
as we look to our ignorant beacons
are we rising or falling
sinking or sailing

only time will tell
jordan Aug 2020
barren canyon
echo-haunted walls
thirsty sand-blown dust

skeletal branches
stripped of life
sloughing-bark itch

shriveled snakeskin
crackles in disintegration
snagged on ancient sagebrush

but when her teardrop falls
the love buried in his desert heart
springs to unquenchable life
jordan Aug 2020
font springing from
the depths of a shallow pool

boiling with fervor
under glass-still surface

with effort i see i can see
through my own reflection

golden-bedrock streambed
red sand flowing downstream

and i know that this river
and my life are forever one
jordan Aug 2020
it was all very normal
until the pink elephant
walked in and whispered
in the prime minister's ear

when things calmed down
i walked up to the elephant
and while admiring his wings
i asked him what we all wondered

"i delivered the unfortunate news
that the arctic monkeys have all
finally frozen" he said with a smile
have you ever seen an elephant grin?

the wind left my chest with the sight
and blacking out i fell to the floor
the next thing i know i wake up
it's time for the next speaker
what a yawn
jordan Aug 2020
the blank page
scratched and scarred
by the pencil

the sharp pencil
sacrificing itself
to the page

the written page
does not feel tarnished
by the pencil’s residue

the dull pencil
does not feel diminished
by the loss of graphite

both page and pencil
when disfigured and destroyed
fulfill their potential
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