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I will run until my heart no longer aches.
Seconds and Minutes,
it's all such a blur,
That is until I am able to return,
back to where I live, in my mind,
leaving me with nothing but pieces to put together.
A small recollection of the others taking over,
because I cannot deal with life on my own.  

That is until, I met this man;
He tries, he really does, to help me.
Where were you before this world was so cruel to me?
Are you here to set me free?
I declare that I am far too broken, and I don't want to drag him down with  the horror, the evil, the tales that haunt me.
There is so much pain, and tragedy,
Surely he is able to see that in the story lines of my face.

Yet his soul is not feeble, but strong enough for the both of us,
as I see in each encounter.

Strong enough to help me escape.

©A. Harris 2015
This poem is based on a book a read a while back, called Switching Time, based on  a woman with 17 personalities.
For just a little while, let time stand still
Let me enjoy the beauty,
allowing me to take in this life,
A deep inhale and appreciation sinks in.
More aware now then I have ever been.
This busy life will consume you, if you let it,
But I ask of you, for a little more simplicity
in the busy, god forsaken city.
For once, just let it be, filled with tranquility.

©A. Harris 2015
Pressed so tight, in prayer, in thought,
To silence my mind, and to find what has been lost.
I search and search to have that void filled,
Feeling no closer to reaching the still.
Hands are the gateway or so they say.
To truly surrender, one must pray.
So I will keep this conscious contact, never losing hope, in the divine.

Aharris  11/2015
I eased you from the worldly fire with my heart;**  *so you didn't have to feel the burn without love before my own flames ignited.
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 Dec 2015 PoETE Poet-Pete
Àŧùl
For he's going through,
A time so tough & rude,
Loving mother has undergone,
Surgery for knee replacement,
Ya it was a difficult one,
As she's so senior in age,
May time be merciful & help her.

May time help a son to look after,
Loanee we all are of our parents,
Only few get such chances,
Gitacharyaji, we are lucky,
For both of us have gotten ample,
Opportunities to look after them,
We must serve our parents.

Still we can never repay the debt,
They gave us life, they taught us,
Of course we are their symbols,
We are lucky to do something,
For the progenitors of ours,
May your faith guide you,
And impart strength to you.
Bless you sir Gitacharya Vedala.
May you be able to look after your mother properly.
Never feel that you're alone in this task.

My HP Poem #852
©Atul Kaushal
Tears of pure emotion rolled over his cheeks
Taking out the lava of pain down onto the earth
His revival now solely depends upon the way
He manages to carry on in the aftermath
Of the eruption of the volcano, called emotion

You're not here with me doesn't
Necessarily mean
You're not with me
I know you're always with me
Whether it is here
Or somewhere else.

Death separated
Our bodies
Not the spirits, the hearts
Your existence
In the space-time
Once or thence
Enough

I'll lead my life
Till the end
In the name of the best within Us
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