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From the glass that is empty, overflows divine might.
In the chasm of silence, where new stars may ignite.
As the void holds a state of potential in every instance.
The emptiness is proof of an infinite existence.

Energetic quantum fields, they hold a nothing that is all,
With a pleromatic silence that is actually the call.
Entropy keeps all her secrets, only told in conscious wave.
Each new pattern is stitched from the very fabric of decay.

Potential, though unspoken, lives in every empty heart.
Divine purpose suspended between  light and the dark.
Space and time twist as futures, echoing their past.
Silence holds the truth beneath continuum, born to last.

Silent emptiness, potential for a  limitless creation.
Hearts beat sacred rhythms of quantum contemplation.
A paradox prevails as the chaos becomes the tamed.
Converging bursts of particles blend to a single wave.

The empty glass, a garden. Home of quantum fields to sprout.
In this parodoxic realm, where our dreams  are breaking out.
In the spaces between seconds, whole realities are grown.
Each moment is a leaf upon the tree of this unknown.

The psyche falls apart, but its progression will make whole.
Where the  absence turns into a dark salvation for the soul.
By the frequency of binaural pulses altered, I'm entranced.
I'm the infinite, just waiting, within momentary chance.

In the silence of the mind, creation calls without a sound.
We're adrift in nothingness, lost in what we haven't found.
Yet the glass that is empty holds a hope beyond profound,
In emptiness lives everything. The nothingness, unbound.

And in the space of emptiness, as pure as it is wide,
There's a  potential Divine, hidden deep in the sublime.
Both the broken and the whole, find a home to be embraced,
By the empty glass, to be transmogrified in conscious space.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
Agnes de Lods Mar 26
A photo, a fragment of reality sent by my mother.
Just a piece of sky, one tree, and some ground,
a beautiful landscape with a hopeful, rising spring.
I am not there, but I feel a gentle wind,
carrying the scent of what is living.

On the tram ride,
I saw the damaged walls of the old house.
Some people still live there.
Are they disturbed or happier than I am?

Appearances can be so confusing and shallow.
Every perspective—another world.
The truth is scattered across small backgrounds.

Why do I feel amazed
that not every puzzle fits?

When I was returning home,
a young man sat next to me.
He started to talk about himself
and a series of unfortunate events.

He was looking at me
as if I was everything
while I was nothing more than a simple listener.

So, I got off, wishing him good luck,
knowing I wouldn't see that person again.
My life is overwhelmed by random encounters.

Now, I watch my memory of past situations.
I’m sifting through unclear interpretations,
wondering why I still dwell on symbols.

I wish I could believe
every circumstance was an opportunity,
a unique chance and not as things are today,
just casual happenstance
without coherence or deeper meaning.
Sometimes I just want things to mean more. Even if they don’t.
There's no promise of love,
I was lucky to find it.
Nothing says there will be someone there,
For you to hold or be held by,
When the storm rolls in.
A very few get to know,
Just how it feels,
To embrace your lover.
Carefully placing your hand on their face,
Love isn't promised,
Possibly it may never come,
So I am lucky to have it now.
It's rare for it to be true
To those honored poets,
An opportunity has opened up,
I'd like to spread this gospel,
Of a chance to reach new horizons,
Well beyond this world,
Now gather if you dare,
Join and journey to a new place.
You most likely already saw it, but one of the great poets on this site, Ghost, is making an Instagram project to share poetry from this site into the wider world. Go check it out!
Melanie Feb 25
all I know how to do is love
my bones ache to care
and I'm not sorry for trying
even if you didn't deserve it
I deserve the chance
Saman Badam Feb 21
The ledge of ridge to river, dark and damp,
At edge on final stone, with algae slick,
In iron-studded boots, without a lamp,
The lonely man thus stands in terror thick.

And hears the howling wolves in hunter's writ—
Despair and death approach in hushing steps,
With rancid smell and sound of drooling drip,
From crimson, slicing smiles as malice swells.

A jump to death or dying rabid stand—
Between the maw or fangs, no choice to spare.
With ice in guts, his footing slips from land
And tumbles into murk, without a care.

With rushing wind in ears, like lover’s sigh,
With eyes to sky, a wish for moon to lie.
What chance will you take?
Jeff Bresee Feb 19
Have you perhaps held on too long
to the place that you call home?
Have you let too much time slip by,
avoiding the unknown?
 
It’s hard not to be scared of change,
it happens naturally.
The risk of taking chances, yes
it’s pure anxiety.
 
But staying in this place is death,
you’re meant to rise and grow.
Your heart is meant to be your guide,
trust it and just let go.
 
If you stay here, you’ll just get old.
Your dreams you’ll never find.
So, take this chance, depart…
and leave this old place far behind.
Àŧùl Feb 5
Sorrow is the song
Heart is the holster
Grief is the gun
Listen to my melody
Oh youthful murderer
Forget what's right
Forgive what's wrong

For you I long
Fallacy is the killer
Hot is the sun
Life is a comedy
Oh my upset lover
Today's the night
'Morrow's lifelong.

I wish you a happy day,
Which is your birthday,
In advance, in advance,
I hope together we dance,
You in my caring arms,
And I in your deep eyes,
Give in to my charming way.
My HP Poem #2045
©Atul Kaushal
Heidi Franke Jan 29
How sorry I am
That's the title of the
Book I will write.
If I say,
I may write,
Where does my sorry go?
My son unintentionally caused the death of another man. There were and are so many victims. Four years on I remain bewildered it even happened. If you knew the story you too would be dizzy. If any of those involved had altered anything they did by just 10 seconds there would be no story to write. We are all so fragile. Don't let vengeance in.
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