living is living to the fullest
looking back to no regrets
a bundle of memories
too precious to share
yet too special to keep alone

living is feeling fear
its every emotion through your head
its not perfect
its being brave to speak out
and make a difference

living is every moment
you do something
you would do again
its the small fights
soothed by the beautiful words

living is the gasp when seeing scenery
the wind in your hair
the sparkle of your eyes and the **** of your smile
the satisfaction and pride
for yourself and other

living is
pure bliss
afraid to shatter

One repeats this phrase with the keen of heart
Yet do not fully grasp the concept of its art
In the end nothing matters
Speculating the grand scheme of afterlife
Is there even an afterlife?

Fire rose from man’s heart
Enabling great fear and passion
In the end nothing matters
Yet a man can only push and hope for better
As he is in no control of his destiny
One can only cruise the ship with certainty
Certain of his own capability
Infinite
Certain that one day his work will be seen by great minds
Transcending
Bestow to mankind at the desperate time
Free the greatness within
Free the inspiring nature indeed
Is this merely a dream of a kind
You would not know until you arise

From ashes of the old one
Reminiscent of the death
In the end nothing matters
Tranquil yet fearful
Thus the nature of life
Unappreciative at its nature
Yet all is harmonious and righteous
As a bacteria can make imminent difference
All is connected and nothing is lost
One can only stand and accept it all

Ziku

In the cabin I ponder
Upright arm crossed
Cheering for the reality of livelihood
Calculating
Learning
Reciting
Living
Through the cacoon I rose
But what's the meaning of it all?

An old man stood before thee grand of death
A stick in his hand and a bag of deed on his back
Judgement day longing from the not so distant future
Chariots of fire accompanied by mythical features
At the end nothing matters
But your deed to the being and everlasting lust for the truth

As the words arose I sit and ponder
Imminent death
Unpredictable
What's the meaning of it all?
Not a drop of answer will show
One finds his own destiny
When he chose the life of the enlightenment
Hardships follow though
People resent you
Yet the message is clear
"Just do you"

bury me living
for i am in a world of dead

where the zombified stumble around
looking for meaning

maybe it'll make more sense
six feet under
and down the river styx

tie me to a raft
and let me drift

far, from this meaningless charade
known as life

You will survive this.
You might be in a bad place right now.
It might feel like the feeling will never go away,
like its too overwhelming to imagine ever leaving.
But this too will pass.
you can survive this.
Someday, maybe years from now, maybe months maybe weeks maybe even days from now,
You will look back and think to yourself:
Hey. I'm still alive.
and you will be happy about that.
Even if the pain doesn't stop,
it will eventually ease, and you will be happy.
The difference between how far you've come and surviving this is just one more step. And one more step and another until you look back to where you stand right now and wave, because there is a world where you have already survived this.
Although it seems now like walking across the ocean,
On the other shore of this calamity,
You are waving to yourself, saying
Hey
You're still alive
You got this.

I am the boy who sits at the back of the class; I am the myth and legend, that you have never heard laugh.

I am the eloquent, who so seldom speaks "Good day." and "Goodbye."
I am the b r o k e n, though you will never see me; p a r t i a l or cry.

I am the Lie.

I am the Lie, well housed in the illusion of an ever-present smile.

I am the wary traveller, exhausted yet still encouraging others to walk the extra mile.

I am the dying and ill, who screams to others. "Keep surviving and living, hold fast to your will; life once truly lived, has both bad and good."

I am a human... for better or worse. I am a duality to all others; either a blessing or a curse.

I am a song sang, though others remember only a verse... I am a play, that has been exhaustively rehearsed.

We all come from the same place, have the same home. Like water has its own resting place. The wind blows the water towards the surface of this earth. In order to see, feel and hear what is going on. After a brief moment, that same wind pulls the water back home, back to its resting place again.

Only the water that comes into direct contact with the wind quickly finds its way home; it understands. Unlike the water that is swallowed up by the stones and sand of this world. That water takes longer to understand, but it eventually will go back home too. And it takes even longer for it to understand, that holding on to sand and stones isn't going to change anything about that.

I leave my house for the last time
And prepare to drive for the last time.
I planned where I would go
And how they would never find me in time.

Soft rain pours down the windows
As I pull out of the driveway.
I look at the hazy world around me in awe
Of how dreamy it looks.
Suddenly I don't want to go anymore.

Life may just be worth it again...

I stand in the middle of space where am bounded and hooked up by the fine threads which are though visible but cannot be unhook
I struggle with the exhaustion caused in my brain and heart making me suffocate tearing down my ray of hope-  calling those threads as paternal and maternal relations!!

~preethi

What happens when you try to break the backs
Of backs that are already familiar with and have adapted to the pain of being trampled on?
What happens when those backs have adapted to the pain of breaking and aching and
Making themselves as hard as stone and as flexible as water?
What happens to us?

Our backs become bridges.
Sometimes, they become gates, or tethers.
They leak.
They reek.
They break.
They mend.
They rust,
Never do they break.