mirror mirror on the wall,
whos the most broken of them all?
I asked
i looked at the shattered glass and saw my reflection

am I the broken one,
or is it just you

The dusk brings
Some mysterious peace
A stillness
Quite deep

Could it be
Because
It's that time
When people head home

Home
Where each one
Is accepted
And loved

Loved
As he is
Accepted
As is.

And that brings
So much peace
To be
As he is.

Yet the sun sets
And bids farewell
Brings some sadness
As well.

I’ve seen trees in white dust covered in red barks so to lean asking the dark-skinned civilian soldier to dance, to ****
as cranes stood awfully still in the night vigil of unsupported rhythmic rant, as mosque songs flew in cacophony with her
mental amber, whose face drips off at semi-covered sick puddle with dissolved soft tissues in magnificent soccer performance
and entering an expensive trance to answer foster homes or metro-stop problems selling large and loud fried mechanisms
of lively things, of trendy modes of being, as borrowed bikes lie unruly besides the rock, not locked but saddled down
not the saddened frown of foreigners, British consuls, forced English speakers or almost bald kindly smiling losers
that protests this portrayal, oh-so-heavily in cynicism’s eye, in the proud rooster display of really bad water quality
as I choose to not holler my soul out nakedly there, but over here where the prettiest girl in a hijab does smile
at her pious children playing wild, such bliss, that I would never know from the white thick films of her grandfather
that is mean to say, “someone down that ancestral seam must have done something.” implying folly, nothingness
in our libertarian mistletoe waltzing in suits and formal wear all andante in terminating station’s bugle’s sheer force
at its permissive admittance of goodbyes, in wispy accents that bothers your courageous boss’s college graduate daughter
at the cruel light-blue decoration bulbs draped across coconut trees that never fruit and hence is safe for the street
at the murals and skateboarding sites overfilled with graffitied mathematical equations in proud display of young idealism
at freshly brought cheap soy sauce smells rising high over no chimneys and new energy
for those without another home to smile wistfully
before bumping into the traffic lights, running amok, declaring themselves chickens.

Do you remember how you stood there ?
When the sun had set and the afterglow started to fade, you stood proud, slightly upon the dusk, brilliantly, majestically yet so tiny,
You looked so lonely and helpless, as light faded into darkness,
Covering the world; a sweet blanket filled with many twinkling stars,
How impossible it seems to turn back, have you realized how you changed so drastically, my little sparkling friend over such little time?
Irrational the things hidden away by the night, no moon comes to rise
If you would realise, how this world really is, or the place you are being led, softly, gently, elegantly to stand would be like, what then ?
Have you changed because, you calmly, without having any knowledge fear the night and it's lingering, loitering darkness ?
The night is stained with illusions, keep your gaze up to the sky and follow another star, then surely you would be able to reach your goal,
When you engage in pure furies, the whereabouts of the heart remain undetermined, you just lose yourself within its wandering fragrance,
Because the world you had taken for granted collapsed into somber,
Collapsed into a dimmer more frightening state of undefined beauty,
Everything is far too late, impossible to return now, it has been decided that it maybe should have been so, a loitering darkness to be,
You are part of this world now, standing where you are don't you think that this sky, slumbering earth is as allure as nothing else ?
If it awakens your wish will become true and you will disappear by the sight of the daybreak, the sun takes over with her golden light,
The world you have forgotten will reappear then everything starts a new and maybe one day you too will understand, my dearest,
That the night is something very beautiful.

~ Umi

Time passes
in seconds,
minutes,
hours.

People pass by-
day
by day
by day.

She sits, statuesque,
in the glowing light
of Dusk
waiting for the end.

yet...

An angel comes
on wings of red and gold.
He carries with him
a saving Grace.

1
Gazing at Dipper,
In the dry summer night sky,
Seven towers light.

#2
Brown Molave leaves,
Blown under the summer heat,
Scatter on dry soil.

#3
Gumamela grains,
Swept by swift North-East trade winds,
Reach the hibiscus.

The dawn is of purest gold and of sweetest sugar,
for you know that it means the light is coming.

The dusk holds darkness and tastes so bitter,
promising a long, cold night.

But each is as beautiful as the other, because without darkness, light is meaningless.