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Srishti 5d
If you ****** anything from a person who deserves it, then the universe will ****** away all the reasons because of which you snatched that thing from that person.--word by my chemistry teacher
Teacher don't only teach they also give life lessons.I am very much tankful to my teacher.
When the stars refuse to align,
some might wait
wait for them to fall into place
or leave them be;
watch them drift away,
a chance lost to realms unknown

The fault lies in the cosmos,
the world will say,
and fate is a cruel mistress

But when the wind blows,
I will stand my ground
I am not a tide,
and the moon cannot move me

So I’ll ****** my hands through the clouds,
seize the cosmic strings,
and pull them into place

The cosmos has no say
and I will not let you float away.
To my love

The cosmos has no place in our love, what we build is ours and ours alone. I will not give the stars credit for the things we built with our own hands.
She gazed at the dazzling array of stars,
filled with awe and curiosity, cradling her aspirations while serving as a witness to the miracle of life, how a mere spark can evolve into an entire universe, a vast cosmos.
Nearby, a vigilant owl perched silently. Did it contemplate this enigma as well, she mused? Surely, the essence of meaning and wonder isn't exclusive to humanity, she reflected.
Surely, every creature feels the pulse of life within it, and the pull of the unknown.
As if responding to her unspoken question, the great barn owl hooted quietly and unfurled its mighty wings, soaring high into the sky, eager to discover what other marvels awaited it in its palace of trees.
Farewell, dear soul, she whispered gently; perhaps one day soon, I too will spread my wings, and fly away from this place.

-Rhia Clay
A woman stands with her dearest flame
as he looks towards a view of deeper high seas
with his eyes brightening in their pale blue colors
while the pearly foam touches their feet,
pairs of hands touch one another in a silent coveting
for an hour of rest to last till they never part in their
heavenly altar, indeed, chords may toll for an opera of
the cosmos, although he still meets her sight
with his fervor in rise as carnations in waking gleam in
slower motion whilst their gardens of tenderness
come alive amongst the wastelands in a way that
is potently lucid and enchanting.
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2021
Pi, at the end of its endless decimals' grandeur,
meets a human being—who holds a mirror!
Until now, the number, knowing only sway,
has been lost in discovery’s polished way.
No more: it begins—on a human—in front of its eye.

Patterns and unique precision, patternless waves,
new math tides soar, pivot at the cosmos' height,
only to bag the ultimate truth:
Fathima—the first spiritual woman—mooned there first!

Fathima steps forward where nature falls behind,
across the dead end, the irrational chasm she strides.
For the cosmos' deep mind, Earth, the ocean is but a drop;
the rope to the top is the lead—the feminine Fathima’s lock!

Raw Fathima moves; in shadow, nature follows,
clustering atoms span between the two,
only to witness her encrypted, secured fashion—
intact, uncharted, yet fully functioning,
in Makkah and Medina, while she lived.

The red fairies at midday’s spot-on,
the black swans arching rainbows in wonder—
marvel how Fathima deduces, straw by straw,
the maestros’ dream of ascension,
potion-polished, taking Ma pauses in liminal crescendos,
between past and future, here and hereafter—a circular duo.
Limning out chiaroscuro in light and shadow—
nothing like it exists, in plain sight or the world in toto!

Rainbows shaded in, sparking out,
the scent of roses in her veiled black hair:
the cosmos anew glinting off her edge,
deeper quintessence than dark matter!

The blueprint, the intelligent pre-design, rests in her elements.
The breakthrough exponent—hidden in her eyes.
Yet beyond the masses’ gaze,
she remains Zahra—light upon the original way.

Truly, only one feminine form has reached across
the other end of the cosmos' endless highway,
zooming past nature’s hidden gems—the irrational Pi,
the complex chasm—a mathematical goldmine.

Beyond the masses’ eyes and their painted canvases,
shine the daylight and the glowing fireflies of the night.
Viva Mankind! Fathima is the Moon at the highest high!
Beneath the twilight’s soft embrace,
I wander through dreams of you—
A universe of fire and grace,
Where every star sings a love true.

Your eyes, like distant galaxies aglow,
Illuminate the corridors of my heart,
In every whispered breeze they bestow
A promise that we’ll never be apart.

Your voice, a river of tender notes,
Carries the secrets of the ancient skies,
Where love in every fleeting moment floats,
And time in your eternal presence lies.

In the garden of our shared desire,
Roses bloom with fervent, crimson fire,
Their petals drenched in passion’s refrain,
A symphony of longing, free of pain.

So let our souls entwine in endless flight,
A dance of shadows, light, and fervent grace,
For in this sacred, ever-blazing night,
Our love becomes the cosmos we embrace.
Ken Pepiton Mar 5
La la Joconde, the joke as one may yoke
two or three re calling

details in mystery more than mere

completion intentional sfumata mere pure

clear as if nothing seen through reflective lead

subtility shown few, seen through granite reflecting
eastern wall of my tower, thought grand, a cave

operationally… stage left
your right, redirecting light, from my west,

tricks perceived as light a little brighter, turn
a detail, eyes made to speak irrelevancy,

observe a casus artis sui, as done, indeed,

as we may imagine natural reflection no brows

at the edge of Earthian evidence of ductility,

so subtle perceive the effect reason perceived…

we believe we are seen, face to face,
gentle smile entertained, flickering scintillating,

slight smile we are told, see this from 2025,
online PDF
better on your phone than in the Louvre
imagine Leonardo, with wifi

while tracing nerves, pursing the kiss,
shaping how we say smile, slightly

and we find the makings
of an ever imaginable
clear plain vision
slight smile,

providing word frame soft smooth transistion

low spatial frequencies,
imagine that, elusion, sfumata soft
allusive, recessive expression, towb ra' beheld.

The Mona Lisa keeps her smile, ah

lead us critical seer of details where the works

work their magic,
as we imagine the measure
of man, male model mundus mind holder
Earthian two tree vascular neural node
fruiting through root or branch,
while using fire
to pop seeds

Imagine meeting Da Vinci yesterday,
getting to know, his quirks,
and something

of life five hundred years ago.
Having some old smith ties,

compounding confounded springs
from old cars
in trigger assemblies
on the east side
of the Kush.

Verily true being man,
here we be, there be time,
here we think, there we may imagine

thinking, mere will
to be kept
for my art sake, or something,

try the spirits, feel the dense purity,

find the peasant story, find

the first hearth told naming day story,
the first hearty wake attended after all,

tie to the old religions casus belli got lost,
loosed and blown past nnnand gates,

goodness, Mr. Feynman, I can fix a flat.

That was the summer of '44…

at Alamogordo, south of trees planted
for several seasons in the 1980s,
at Ruidoso,
on Mescalero land, many trees
paid directly

to the Holy Alamo Church

where Andy Riddle died,
and sense you would not know him,
I ask you to trust me, he was saintly.

A celibate spiritual ******, was he,

a classically trained scion of some
airline fortune, Braniff adds some flair

this cult had heirs of Vanderbilt
and obscure Four Square base support,

with tendrils in Orange County Birchers.

Wild, wonder if what if, look at us now…  
as true believers, grown old,
to be reviewed
on Global TV
by members
surviving a lie,
a religious cult,
with credible ties
to Ronald Reagan,

and the take down
of Pandora's Box,
as the Domino Theory, has religion init,

decoding dementia devine design,
what if wonder if works best, then what


first we get the idea, we all see it done,
magnificent math positioning dominos,

true cause and effect demonstrations,
of promethean planning, fore thought,

functional failures readjusted, think
a gain, see, we learned what never works,

by trying a thousand times, ok, no hell,

no heaven not matching one that works here,

on earth, as if this were where forever occurs,,,

to us. Readers of time signs as we stay busy dying.
Trumps performance. the pretty in pinks the fraction of attention, once
word was whatsoever two or more agreed to call true, at once, is thought,
so true, so touching, so seriously addressing the smallness of Earth,
and how much attention is spent living, day to day,
some days hard, some not so hard, time to waste reading Isaacson/
The colour orange speaks
In the dark sky their lights I saw
For the good of mankind
Not for All mankind
But for the man who is kind
Sean Achilleos
23 Feb. '25
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