I’m always grasping. Trying to retain some form. Painfully and desperately, I try to keep it, shape it, define it into permanence.
This longing for certainty, this anxiety and desire to be— like the statues unmoving, named and certain— to be something I know, forever, and ever and ever.
But our splendor is in our changing, in our ever shifting consciousness. The heart floods and becomes empty again. The breeze of autumn. The hot of summer. My blood on the rocks. The wound tender in infection. The scar I touch like a feather.
We are made in God’s knowing of ephemera, ever changing, ever fleeting. Undefined, and ephemeral forever, ever and ever.
Temporarily permanent life
...do you get it?
She speaks in tongues and earthwards—
Angels fall listening how to know divinity
From lips that open and close as do tides
Slip, blooming with the face of the moon.
She walks in airs of splendour and light—
Shoulders kin, her child riding on a beam
Vanquishing the sun with celebrated night
Set in reflection on lake waters, little moon.
Some days are ephemeral
A short but sweet memory
Some are longer days
That carry me far away
And I simply drift
The days that are the longest
Are the ones that take me farthest
And I simply drift
Into the abyss of time
Chasms of nothing
The void of desolation
A veil torn to shreds by light
Till I find the path
That leads me back to myself
I will simply drift
A poem I wrote for my friends creative writing class cuz she was too lazy
Ever the Mayfly’s
Hovering in the quick-day heat
Ever the Mayfly thickening
Minutes of a lifetime
Ever the brief flight
Remembering Le petite mort
A requiem dance
Living for one day perhaps...
Did you enjoy your frozen yoghurt?
“Well, yes I did”
But did you really, though?
Did you, instead of swiftly devouring it like the monster you are,
allow it to melt on your tongue,
having it soak in the flavours as it explodes and have its sweetness
dance to music played in your mind?
Did you slow down to savour the promise of heaven’s eternal bliss?
Did you stop to be still and live in the moment?
Did you make it last a little longer, so as to make it worth as long as it should last?
Yet, alas, it lasts no longer.
And when all is said and done, what’s left of it– emptiness in the cup, and the remnants we so desperately try to scrape and taste to remember what it felt like, and to clean up the cup as much as possible.
Maybe this is why we enjoy temporal things; though they pass away, what they offer in the moment gives us a glimpse of what eternity may hold.
Thoughts conceived at IKEA.
All the times I loved in the past,
They now seem ephemeral,
Moving on always seemed impossible,
However, the word impossible,
Itself says, I'm possible!
My failures were evanescent dreams,
Were they not?
My HP Poem #1734
she feels so lost,
that you would think
there was once a time
when she belonged to someone,
that she had accidentally
been misplaced somehow.
But you must first have something--
before you can lose it.
(And no one has ever wanted her.)
She is a translucent thing,
She must walk through walls,
for no one--
neither friend nor foe--
seems to notice her
when she enters a room.
(or when she leaves one.)
She’ll slip away
from a crowd so easily,
it was almost as if she was
never even there at all.
It only takes a second–
a bat of an eyelash;
by the time you’ve turned around,
(she's always been good at disappearing,
or maybe you're just bad at paying attention.)
But it’s no matter;
her presence does not faze you,
so what makes her
No one would care
to love a girl like her,
A girl so
o u t
p l a c e.
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!
(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience.)
Love is infinite,
or it isn't ?
I feel unconditional,
I feel love.
It spoke end,
You spoke none.
For mine is unrequited,
For my love is for eternity.
For you do not love me -
For that being said,
I knew it was temporary.
'cause you'll learn that it is only temporary.
If I am to die before you, I must
Tell you of where I will be.
I will be nowhere and everywhere you
see, beautifully simultaneously.
You don’t have to understand it; I don’t.
Just know that I don’t exist - but
in minds, fixed on family films,
And poetry; there, you’ll find me again.