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leeaaun Oct 2023
The world where magic reigned, a fairytale unfurled,
I was water, tranquil and serene, he, fire in a whirl.
Our paths converged by destiny's hand, two worlds apart,
In the tapestry of love, we found a beating heart.

I, a crystal brook winding through enchanted glades,
He, a tempest of flames, dancing in fiery cascades.
Our first encounter, a clash of elements so rare,
Yet in that very moment, we became a fated pair.

He roared with passion, fierce and untamed,
While I whispered softly, my essence unnamed.
Together, we embarked on a quest unknown,
A love story woven in the stars, our destiny sown.

Through the enchanted forest and twilight skies,
We journeyed together, love shining in our eyes.
I quenched his burning desires with my gentle tide,
He ignited my soul with a fervor that couldn't hide.

But our love, a tempestuous, passionate blend,
A fairytale of water and fire, with no clear end.
For every time he scorched, I soothed the blaze,
In the ebb and flow of love, we danced for days.

As the seasons passed, our love story grew,
In the heart of the forest, where the wildflowers grew.
We found solace in the harmony of our ways,
Two contrasting elements, caught in love's maze.

But as fate would have it, one fateful night,
A darkness descended, eclipsing our light.
An evil sorceress, jealous of our love so true,
Cast a wicked spell, our destinies she'd undo.

I, in my liquid form, was trapped in a crystal cell,
While he, in fiery chains, descended into hell.
Separated by magic, our love seemed doomed,
Two halves of a whole, forever entombed.

Years passed, a forlorn and desolate time,
In separate realms, our love's bell did chime.
But deep within our hearts, a spark remained,
A love unbroken, though worlds apart, constrained.

Then, one fateful day, a hero emerged,
A knight in shining armor, courage surged.
With a heart full of love and a sword so true,
He battled the sorceress and her dark, vile crew.

In the midst of the battle, the crystal shattered,
The fiery chains broke, and our love was rekindled, unshattered.
Water and fire, together once more,
In the realm of love, we'd forever explore.

With a kiss of true love, the spell was undone,
Underneath the moon and the shining sun.
We stood united, against all odds,
A love story written in the stars by the gods.

Our fairytale, both sad and sublime,
Water and fire, transcending space and time.
Through trials and tribulations, we'd endured,
A love, pure and eternal, forever assured.
When the magistry has ended, /
The echoes of repose begin to resound; /
Although there is, there has been a great wanderer in me, /
The beckoning has not ceased, /
Nor has my heart been claimed in abeyance. /

A story, one with risings & fallings, /
One with an unfalteringly great divide, /
Has bestowed a parcel from on high; /
The Winds, The Earth, The Ocean, The Sun, The Moon, /
They are the pulse of this Grand Tapestry. /

When we are enraptured, /
By ensorcelled irides /
We become; /
Sometimes being enamored /
Means our journey is re-willed; /
Moreover, we see the world with Brand New Eyes. /

Allowing every experience, to re-modulate my thoughts & feelings /
I realized uncertainty was not a barrier, /
Rather, it was my nexus to transcendence. /
Having a time & space in which to reflect, retrospect, & introspect was an aegis, /
Now real & authentic happiness is no longer distant /
And faith is near. /



Sanders Maurice Foulke III, AAS


Sunset Meadows Feb 2023
I am from water, from fire,
      from earth and air,
            the spirit to complete.
I am from the busy movement of city
      from the busstling to and fro.
I am from historic land,
      from where many jumped to find gold,
            to find a better life.
I am from the prison of Him,
      from where the truama begins,
            perfect from all around.
I am from nights of games,
      from spondgebob monoply
            from Life.
I am from the seeds of the earth,
      from where the magick starts.
I am from Odin, from Apollo,
      the strong Yggdrasil to protect.
I am from the occult of practice,
      from the forests and seas.
I am from long walks with Odin,
      from his warm embrace,
            from playing fetch.
I am from the theatre,
      from Carlos, from tech.
I am from here.
The frequencies produced by our thoughts resonate with different aspects of our physical environment. Liquids, solids, gases, and plasma. When you combine two elements they may, or not, produce a reaction. A measure that can assure that no reaction occurs is too contain it. In a lab, in order for the observer to see the contents of the container, glass is utilized. Only rarely in case of highly volatile substances is a tinted or otherwise opaque container used. Boundaries. They prevent any of the substances from altering their resting state. Randy and I are highly volatile together. I wonder what a gas and a plasma can create through their union. I wonder if they can achieve fusion.
I keep looking for a way to work on my marriage. I’m trying to think about it in terms of creation. Creation is so volatile, so messy, often painful. Cookies don’t start out sweet and delicious, they become cookies with love, and folding, and pressing, and kneading, and time, and heat.
Zywa Oct 2022
Storm, I am awake

and I hear the stars stamping --

in the night stables.
"II. Skärgård på hösten - Stormen" ("II. Archipelago in the autumn - Storm", 1954, Tomas Tranströmer)

Collection "Germ Substance"

Collection "Bearer Toonder"
Odd Odyssey Poet Sep 2022
Baptized in water, to wash afresh life
They flipped a quarter to pay a wreck their stripes
Too many strikes in the lines; I've done ill twice
To prove a lesson I never seem to learn
And by the next turn on an unfamiliar road
As where the water drips off the bottom sink—filled in dirt
I'll over think a wish that employers pay my worth

Baptized in fire, of all those miscreants I'd like to burn
Setting flame to burning evil intent of worldly incense
As the idea of a heaven paradise, is the only call to repent
To accept the mess you made—no sense or point to be afraid
Tip the finger despite the good intent, but a ******* in prayer
Nowadays sinners aren't ashamed, to gain success out of his name
Heathen, Atheist, Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist; all the same
Living the most lively of lives, but we'll all die in the end

Baptized in Earth, saying goodbye to befores, family and friends
It's the spoil of soil that buries my dreams with a fresh rose
She smells of intentions, but I cannot smell good with a ****** nose
Ironically all things are red, that of which we've read
To share with the young, or not really care—we all die in the end
Caught in this life's trap of the pleasure's unfair; a bear in a snare
To rob you bare, with tears and a ripped bandage that you tear
The ones you love aren't always there—in moment's phone call away
Ring, ring, beep, beep, sing, sing, sip, sip; sorry I'm drinking today
You're just throwing those hopes in the air, feeling down by gravity

Baptized in winds, swinging carelessly in hopeful imaginings
That you're the one to be the golden egg of your family
An idea I had once till it cracked, so I sit back relax and laugh
Mask my pains with a grin and jokingly demeanor to always pass
Speaking smooth joy out of a tongue of jazz, and jazz hands
Fingers splayed to play in quotation marks of having a good day
And the line phrase of always saying, "yeah I'm definitely okay"

All in these elements—restless, pretend excellence, dreadfulness
In the endlessness of subtle pettiness, of my helplessness
As of my gentleness elegance, in being my life as the evidence
I've been baptized fully by the full of all these elements
Zywa Jun 2022
Little raindrops tap

softly, rumble heavily --

down on the fish scales.
"Underneath" (2020, Jasna Veličković), composition for hyperorgan and coils, performed by her in the Organpark on May 20th, 2022 and May 28th, 2022 (on May 20th, 2022 as part 1 of a chain composition by ten composers)

Collection "org anp ark" #215
Zywa May 2022
In a tangle are

the snowflakes dancing about:

winter mosquitoes.
"Wintermuggen" ("Winter mosquitoes", 1896, ***** Gezelle)

Collection "Held True"
irinia May 2022
A drop of water fell on my hand,
drawn from the Ganges and the Nile,

from hoarfrost ascended to heaven off a seal's whiskers,
from jugs broken in the cities of Ys and Tyre.

On my index finger
the Caspian Sea isn't landlocked,

and the Pacific is the Rudawa's meek tributary,
the same stream that floated in a little cloud over Paris

in the year seven hundred and sixty-four
on the seventh of May at three a. m.

There are not enough mouths to utter
all your fleeting names, O water.

I would have to name you in every tongue,
pronouncing all the vowels at once

while also keeping silent — for the sake of the lake
that still goes unnamed

and doesn't exist on this earth, just as the star
reflected in it is not in the sky.

Someone was drowning, someone dying was
calling out for you. Long ago, yesterday.

You have saved houses from fire, you have carried off
houses and trees, forests and towns alike.

You've been in christening fonts and courtesans' baths.
In coffins and kisses.

Gnawing at stone, feeding rainbows.
In the sweat and the dew of pyramids and lilacs.

How light the raindrop's contents are.
How gently the world touches me.

Whenever wherever whatever has happened
is written on waters of Babel

By Wisława Szymborska
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