Across the boundless tapestry of time,
I have wandered through forgotten ages,
Shrouded in myriad guises,
Each existence a thread woven into an eternal fabric,
Circling endlessly, always seeking resolution.

Every life, a fleeting echo,
A delicate brushstroke on the canvas of eternity,
A dance in the vast cosmic symphony,
Reaching for a union so profound—
Yet slipping away, like mist before the dawn.

I have carried the weight of centuries,
The ache of memories etched deep in my bones,
Trapped in the cyclical dance of transient meetings,
Glimmering for a moment
Before dissolving into the shadows.

In order to perceive yourself as worthy;

How many more achievements must you accomplish?
How many more ‘wins’ must you have?

How many more followers must you have?
How many more likes must you have?
How famous must you be?

How many more characters must you create?
How many more images of yourself must you envision?
How many more masks must you wear?

How many more versions of the ‘self’ you need to create?
How many more ‘to become’(s) must you be?

How many more times must you reinvent yourself?
How many more times must you meet yourself?

How many more of your parts must you hide, silence, ignore, suppress, and crush?

What more must you consume to come to know your worth?
What more must you pretend to be till you allow yourself to ‘just’ be as you are?

There is no amount of ‘doing’ that elevates your self worth
There is no amount of sins that can ever depreciate your worth

The ‘self’ is eternal
The human’s ’worth’ is a sacred eternal gift
A gift that can never be robbed

In this acceptance
There is no longer a chase to actualise the true authentic self into this world

In this acceptance
The magnificent self emerges

Thank you for being here.

By NwK

True love is not a word to recite, but an emotion that your heart is concealing.
Lovers express love all the time, but those are just,
thought to be feelings.
How does one even know,
if it is love for thee they are feeling?

Some lovers are love drunk all the time,
but once awoken,
with hatred they are dealing.
Is that the irony of love?
or is it the lust of the flesh,
that kept you wheeling?

You can’t blame love for what you do,
if not for love,
life would not be appealing.
It is this four letter word,
when truly felt,
to every soulbwill bring healing. Other than that,
all words are simply to your heart teasing.

Your heart may have many beats, but only one tune,
will leave you kneeling.
Look for what I call a wise love, and set aside what to your eyes may seem pleasing.
The painting that is today flamboyant,
tomorrow will be dull and displeasing.