Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly

No time but now
Yesterday, the only guarantee
But for a mayfly, there is no yesterday
And tomorrow is already out of the question
Yesterday and tomorrow
Mean nothing to the mayfly
And so we live today

Hummmmm
Goes the heart of the mayfly
Beating tirelessly, loving endlessly
Each indiscernible thump
Exuding the rich melody of life
Until it stops
And we return to dust

But oh! How passionately our hearts did beat!
Intoxicated by the pure joy of being
How could we be wrenched away
From the moments we shared
The moments we called trivial and routine that
We now romanticize

The mayfly lives for five minutes
The mayfly lives for the moment
The man lives for 79 years
The man lives for tomorrow
Until there are no more tomorrows

Until the cumulation of every unfulfilled dreams and desire
Come crashing down like a great wave and
We return to the dust

The mayfly has no tomorrow
The man needs not tomorrow

Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly

What if God was a man, like mortal beings
He would be a man feared by kings
He would awe the world by doing unspeakable things,
The world will know of his name
Atheist would try but science can’t explain.

If God was a man,
He would seat on the throne of dilemma
Trying to answer the prayers of every man
The common man who prays for good health
For business sake, the coffin maker prays for death,
The common man who prays for peace in his place
The lawyer who prays for his case.

If God was a man,
One that I can touch this close
If man propose, how dare he dispose!
Isn’t he human like us?
Why does he find joy in our loss?

If God was a man,
Would he also fall in love?
Would that explain the birth of his son?
When he dies where will he go?
Would he tell us world secrets no one knows?

If God was a man,
Would we see him as God?
Would you believe if he performed miracles as God?
Or if he spoke in a heavenly voice?
Would you rather think
he is just a man seeking fame by force

created a isolated world
than plucked
myself into reality,
for impulsive reasons.

We all have two “selves”: the false self is the one that believes we belong to this world, the real self is the one that knows we do not.

i used to think our love was a sonnet
timeless, and completely without measure
twirling, intertwining words within it
containing phrases sparkling with treasure
i loved you like i could be a poet
i said all the words i knew how to say
to create a love you wouldn't forget
when our song came on, we'd get up and sway
like our love could be put to the music
i sang along and you stayed quiet
but your silence was almost intrinsic
my love for you, you needn't requite
yes, i thought our love was a sonnet
a poem that you would never forget

guess it's a haiku
lovely, ambiguous, but
already over

Read the instructions carefully:
Begin at one, go on to two,
Although, if logic’s not your thing,
Just tear the rule book into shreds
And visualise perfection now
Using the ideas of ideas

Beyond mortality and death,
Build foundations of cotton wool
Clouds as white as nothing known here,
Blend with new brightness,
Wipe clear shades of uncertainty
Away into whatever time

Becomes in this new place and then
Find things to occupy your time:
Balance pale porcelain cherubs
High and thread cold stars in millions
Above them. Harp with purest notes
If you are musical, if not,

Give oxygen to souls in need,
And shelter on this white mountain
Those bewildered victims starting
Without choice to spend infinity
Themselves believing nothing more
Than self and suffering.