Take me away,
To the brighter days where daylight trickles into the crevice of my despair, To the sweet escape that lingers in the air, Take me away, For I am of this sphere no more, I long for you as you play in the wind, As you brighten universal hues of contentment, I seek your benevolence.
It's funny how
when we are young we believe we can do anything. Our youth has lied to us, making us think that we will last forever. One day we wake up and realize that the bed we lie in has become our new grave. We thought we had so many days, so much time to waste, and then one day we find that time has drifted away like the air between our fingers.
Thoughts as I approach my 30th birthday. I still remember the first poem I ever posted on this site almost 10 years ago. Time moves so quickly.
Some consider it to be finite & counted
While others find it incessantly mounted Time is not about retrospection when lonely But a worthy asset to be invested wisely Make time for the ones of importance Before its too late for reluctance It teaches us that despondence shall pass Or its not going to be forever sunny We would know how precious is this entity Only if we could exchange for money Thus do it now, the wish you summon Its late already, time waits for none
We think it's gone
In better times we could have played As weather's changed You slipped away Remembering those blessed days September sun invigorates Glimpses of glory warmed It's riches clasp the back of neck Absorbed in chest and flow to rest Time be spent so look ahead Aim to be your best throughout the test This place is finite so be our heads More to life than meets the end Undefined redemption led
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
If we were exact copies we would find the faults
that make us un-unique.. For some would have a mole in a certain place. Unclean to the others who view themselves as a perfection of ignorance.... We must all be different to realise that perfection is found in the intricate imperfections of evolution. Our faults are what makes every living thing outstanding, as were a creation of random fluidity that makes us no better than those before us, now, or those who are born before our fading of our unique imprint on this pebble. We all a grain that makes a mark no matter our finite moment in this ocean of finite waves...
Is the cloudless sky.... Stretching above my head... Infinite... Is the bare ground... That runs beneath my feet... The only "finite" thing here is... I and my life!
Random thoughts on the finitude of life and the infinitude of the world around me! Thanks for reading!
Finite Minds, Infinite Confusions
Love in the air, hearts in the hands Great Ideals, little perversions Vegan dreams, fishy cravings Land full of dreams & plants Mind full of ideas & ****** dreams A place to grow at a pace so slow To be or not to be ? O'lonely dreamer
My first impressions upon arriving a place called Auroville in India.
What was warranted could not be
more out of lingering fingers reach, but vainly was the goal still paused upon, teased with the view of what each wanted. But stagnant were there endeavours for but a centimetre, a vastness that could not be gauged by touch yet palms were placed. An innuendo of what could be but was not, there love was undeniable but their reality was a vacant space in their hearts. And they sat back to back on this immovable obstacle, mourning the need to be in the grasp of another. No tears were shown to the other but in solace they fell like monsoons on the ground, all emotions were departed from there clouds of white that blinked upon time and then stopped. They never gave up on the motions that stirred within and even though time is finite and what was unforgiving in there needing was no longer. But time is no friend to love, and bones were all that was evidence of what once was. Gazing with empty sockets eternally gazing on the other. But where that which kept them apart had now parted hands of white, now clasped within each others touching. For an eternity where in the echoes of the past which could not be obtained was now holding on in death. Vacant puddles stare into each other and where there was two singular now they are silently holding on to each other.
Silently humbled by birth
Too late to care in such positions Both paused in bumbling notions of joy and despair Times condition gapes and separates Layers merge Control lost, costs constructed Impacted foresight of what might Tight lines blind All answers are finite To suggest anything less incrementally raises discrepancies We do not falsify intentions When mentioned only give to thyself what is true Where we see the other in you In what could be Is and was Nothing exist but her
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)