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brandy 6d
i'd pour my soul into the one i love
if they'd let me
i'd drain myself dry if it were
to water their garden
with hope that we could
watch it blossom together
and i wouldn't ask for sunshine in return
but mine probably would wilt without it
if i were to be honest
because why would i
water my stupid dandelions
when i could tend
to their breath taking tulips?
maybe one day
i'll realize the importance
that my little sunflower garden holds
but until i then i'll just have to work
for my own garden
and maybe for the possibility
of us sharing
a small patch of roses
but before i can take good care of roses
i just need to remember
that nothing can grow
while drowning in water
or in complete darkness
all that's needed
is balance, patience, and love
Zywa Jun 5
A deep thinker goes

far, he can't help to get lost –


in space and in time.
#90 – “Tom Poes en de Bommellegende” (#90 – “Tom **** and the Bumble Legend”,1960, Marten Toonder)

Collection "**** & Lord"
Francie Lynch May 17
We fell all the time.
It was a matter of balance.
Our inner ears and eyes
Struggled with gravity; and
Being upright is our gravest concern.
So, we always stood again,
Revolving around equilibriums:
Bikes, ledges and feet;
Everything was a test. Everything needed balance:
Wheelbarrows, roof peaks and checking accounts.

I've learned balance for adults
Is even more precarious.
Our words are heavily weighted,
And some more disproportionately than others,
With see-saw issues and teeter-totter opinions.

Isn't it easier to get back on the bike
Than walk back unbalanced arguments.
I have become one with the mountains,
As stone, steadfast and immovable,
Unshakeable, even as the earth quakes
Beneath my feet.
I am a marvel, in my fidelity,
Remaining loyal to the plane in which I exist,
Regardless of sleet, snow, or flood.
I bow not to the storms of life,
Nor am I swayed by the tides of destiny,
I cower for none, for I am the pinnacle of spirit,
Standing firm and without apology,
Amidst the rubble of the earth.

I watch as the sands erode,
And the winds are lost to time,
Witnessing the birth and death of worlds,
As a surplus of souls are reclaimed.
I mourn unabashedly still, at my peak,
My prominence unimportant in the face of emotions,
I am no less human -
Though at times, I may wish to be so.

In my resilience, I am ironwood, steely and firm,
And though I may waver in my struggle,
I flail not in my stance,
Thriving in stability,
Seeking to find a parity in energies.
I discover a reliable peace in this equilibrium,
Knowing beyond logic,
The value of self -  
The essential balance of soul, spirit, mind, and body.
Zywa May 10
On top of the spire

the vane's turning to the wind –


warning or advise?
Collection "From Sacred Scriptures"
Zywa Apr 21
The water bubbles,

boils, fizzes, and sizzles: fire --


satisfies its thirst.
“Der Taucher” (“The diver”, 1797, Friedrich Schiller)

Collection "Stream"
Simon Apr 8
Everyone is just another flower at heart....
After all, being another flower from everyone else, gives you the most pleasurable specifics in the right place...when you only feel tolerated enough to advance your very cause into the next adventure (that is truly within the smell of the pollen that perfumes the petal like a fragrance that isn't tolerated in it's own self properly). Even when truthfully...it's all about the smell that directs that very such advancing cause forward into the next district of measurable causes (when and only when), you have become finally advanced enough to truly (now and forevermore) surpass the very self (that you once were, only just a few seconds ago, depending on a flowers perception of time itself). Then forecasts it's own weighing measures into even (the next distract of measurable causes) that combines together an even more stronger fragrance that balances correctly, (when and only when) things truly become one with one another.
In any case, those very pleasurable specifics become the very documentary of a flower becoming just... "Another flower."
But is such terms or pleasant metaphors enough for this very emotional written appeals the very abstract piece one is even wanting to read, or even take the time to truly focus on (by concentration, alone)?
Flowers at the end of the day, don't mask their own intentions (when their own petals start falling, because of aging regrets).
It's more of the very already (possible) defining examples that don't let the petals (with emotional appealing problems) that just don't know how to show themselves, properly. After all, when petals fall from a flower, it's probably because they have yet to show their own hidden beauty.
In essence, when you shed the petals, it isn't of the very cause for when seasons change and flowers go to sleep, or end their own lifecycle with the changing of seasonal tides, or even potentially becoming plucked clean by an enforcer at large who see's flowers ugly (because they see themselves as nothing but useless opportunities at large)!
Regardless, when another flower does this, it's because the very first impression comes off as the obvious spectacle of someone hiding their own shame away, for the oncoming tide of self-insecurities that don't give them the very such "open-minded" source needed for the very availability of shooting forward and simply coming out for being who you want too be....
And that is not of just being another flower... But more the result of a flower changing her own ins and outs for being the very tolerant of their own attitude and behavioral willpower at large.
Whatever happens, nothing can prepare (for what just another flower truly is), is for them to be in the very safe regarding hands of their own potentially past self-ridiculing of oneself.
When and only when, those very petals that you have spread your own fragrance (in the form of beautiful pheromones).
Those very same petals will begin again.
Reattaching itself, accordingly.
And then reversing time (as if looking back at a film roll of many sequence of events) that may help you into reversing your own perspective (with time, that is).
In the end, what you really thought was a big deal (once...) Became the very maneuvering ability where you are now ready to begin re-growing those fragile, (yet strong willed) petals at heart.
This is entirely dedicated to someone who (while only talking with them for only for a few moments in time...) They have in a very mutual respect I now have for them and for their own work, (as by how they have completely reflecting on mine in such a positive sense). I want to truly dedicate them with this poem. :)
Everyone who views this, check out "Just Another Flower's" channel.
You won't be disappointed. Thanks!
Isaac Apr 2
walking on air in my bedroom
so far from the pain and residue
scrubbed and rubbed myself down to the bone
retired; regrouped and ascent the throne
rose glasses on with a visionary mind
pearly whites to hide the pain inside
solid front for a processing machine underneath my skin
estimated time of recovery in two months
just gotta embrace the mourning until the morning
wipe the tears and conquer my fears
rest and repeat, don't forget to eat, rest and repeat
So hot I burnt out
Black Petal Mar 28
Stay, luminous moon.
Orbit my heart forever.
Shine through its deep cracks.
I’m not remotely close to having control.
My fingers slip, but I don’t want to go down that hole.
Temptation at the tip of my nose
with her eyes opening up my soul.
My resolve is low, but I’m trying to make it last.
Sometimes in this race, I feel like I’m coming in last,
even though I stick to the goal, and I’m skating so fast.
I just wish to feel whole, but that’s evading my grasp.
It would be so easy to give up,
to lift up, the regret and hating the past.
Holding on is so hard, is this what
life leads to? The anger and grief bleeds through
my words, hurting him, her, and me too.
Is it sad to plead to the unknown when euphoria actually sees you
at your lowest? When you’re unheroic
and have never been stoic? When you’re unnoticed
yet devoted but you can’t keep focus
because you’ve lost all motive?
It’s sobering to deny the malice
but what if you’re too weak to avoid the chalice?
Will falling into euphoria break the chains on my talus?
Does happiness come from self-discipline and earnest effort, or does it stem from the abandonment of concern in the pursuit of euphoria?
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