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Saanvi 5h
Today I saw brown mountain peaks touching the sky and what a grand sight it was,
As I was humbled by the silence of greatness that doesn't need to shout.
As I was mystified by the rolling valleys beneath.
The mountains, so eerily vast and huge made me feel nervous about my silly human apprehensions.
Time has tested the fate of these mountains, their  peaks still don't bend to anyone.
An eagle flew between these great walls, as if taking a casual evening stroll.
I wonder if the bird admires the beauty in the stillness of these earthly structures.
I wish I could be the eagle, flying as high as the top of the hills, as if conversing and chatting with them.
The mountains are obviously not made of smooth rocks and unmarked skin,
Their surface and body have stories to tell.
If you notice, there are rocks on the mountain chest making a pattern just like ocean waves, creating a painting upon a painting of God.
The limestone that flows so easily on the back of the mountain, like beautiful hair let down.
And the curves on top, the bends on its peak,
The mountain is not a triangle.
It's a woman sleeping peacefully,
Do not disturb her,
For she is She is mother Nature...
She embodies the mountain spirit and has great power.
Do not disturb her,
For she is our mother Earth.
Soon, light gets stolen from the blue skies
As stars come to their job shift, it's now their time to shine.
When the moon rises behind the mountain peaks, the cosmic body feels smaller than the hills.
It becomes the cherry on top of the cake,
It becomes the eye of the mountain.
As the hills breathe and rest,
The soil beneath is ever shifting and changing.
The mountains have been crafted over a thousand of years through storms and rain and dust and water.
A thousand years after I die, the mountains will still be there,
Brown peaks touching the sky
Unconquered and undefeated.
And I will be the eagle flying between the mountain peaks.
And I will be the eagle flying between across the mountain peaks.....
I was a Moon in a dark abyss
Wandering alone in tormented solace
As aimlessly as a fish in bowl
Glumly glad within my alien abode

In a spur _ you appeared from Nowhere
A Blackhole pulling me towards its angelic snare
Rearranging the space time fabric

To a whole new world
mystifying yet aesthetic

And I couldn't resist, for that Benignity
set my heart ablazed _
filled its Valence shell
Entwined with you I will step in eternity soon
Hoping, your floral rugs bear stars and moons..!!
Dallas Nov 2
Into the endless waters I dive down deep
In this ocean of mercy, His face, I seek
Over mountain and valley, plain and hill
I have travelled and will travel further still
To finally find what I've searched for so long
And I will continue until I can't go on
I am lost in the sea of God's great grace
I am awash with the love that covers me
I am found in the arms of His embrace
And was lost, but now I'm found and free
To understand the mystery completely
Is to fill a small hole with the entire sea
Still, I swim on, all caught up in the flood
Still, I am covered by His most precious blood
Still, I keep walking, I keep pressing ahead
Strengthened in the life by which I am fed
Inspired by a story about St. Augustine of Hippo
Left on Red Oct 9
A somewhere someone
Will someday somehow
Take us to somewhen
Somewhat with somewho.
ThemadHatter Sep 30
I always loved a good mystery.
I just never realized how much I was one.
Do they even know who’s at home right now?
Do they know why that's a problem?
I always loved Sherlock Holmes.
But not even he could figure me out.

Are you a talker?
Or a listener.
I’ve always been both.
But I don't talk much at home.
I don’t talk much about it.
But I always sit there.
And listen.
While everybody serves their secrets.
Pouring them.
Spooning them
on to a platter.
I listen.
I might be breaking inside.
On my fourth sleepless night.
But that doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter?

I don’t know how to talk anymore.
About things that make me seen.
It comforts people.
To think they know me.
When really.
They don’t know anything.
I’m just a stranger.
Who collects their pain.
You talk to me and I lift that weight.
Tell me.
Do you feel lighter when you walk away?
Yeah.
Told you so.

So here I am.
Because I have nobody to turn to.
At the end of the day.
Except for you.
Who I love far more than friendships allow.
But not quite as a lover.
Who sees me as more than just a helpful tool.
Who understands that I too,
Suffer.
You just get it.
I just get you.
I don’t know..
But maybe you feel it too.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
This is love.
Rachel Sep 22
Her eyes shine when she smiles;
Feels like we can walk many miles
She is the epitome of grace;
With that beauty all over her face
And inside out she is the prettiest.
Fast headlong I now fell ,
a hole in dark night sky ,
through diverse strange emotion ,
left alone , outside of Time .

Stranded , unveiled and motionless ,
a searing red blinding light ,
rendered my chest torn apart ,
by a figure in black , out of
sight .

Though feeling no base
emotion ,
there was a demon of fear ,
so prayed I sought my deliverance ,
from this being of anguish and tears .

Was I summoned to awaken ?
have access to these works ,
by one lone hidden blind eye
and a chariot of thunder and verse .

But something stood behind this
temple of judgement and pain .
The Sun , the Moon and a field of wheat ,
marked where that hidden door lay .

Symbols rose up from the sea ,
a vision of numbers and sound .
World shifted from black , red to white ,
overwhelmed as the first scroll unbound .
a vision , or waking dream
Saanvi Sep 20
Fog and mist rising,
And then disappearing behind the peaks.
Fog and mist rising
From the lake as if
The water itself is burning beneath its lurky surface.
Fog and mist rising and dissolving into the meadows,
Painting the grassland in grey and white.
Fog and mist rising and nestling in the deodars,
Reflecting the icy surface of the water in its vapour.
Fog and mist rises higher and higher than the mountain peaks as if teasing the ***** of the hill.
Fog and mist rising and tainting the hillside until nothing is visible,
Not even the roads in haunted small towns.
Fog and mist rising from nowhere and covering the hills
In blue and grey and white.
Fog and mist rising like an old curse after the rainfall dances.
Fog and mist rising and then disappearing
behind the peaks,
Where there is only the open sky.
Fog and mist holds secrets within....
Life is like a grab bag full of mystery...
The hand goes in and feels around
The tingling on the fingertips says pick
The mind says, stir it around some
The fingers grasp an item and feel it
What is it?  Is it nice? Is it pretty?
Is it in one piece or is it broken?
Is it what I've been looking for?
Will it disappoint me instead?
My heart beats fast with anticipation
Also with a stream of fear, should I?
Do I take it out to look or drop it back in?
I choose to drop the item back in
Should I stir it up again and choose?
Oh my Lord, what do I do?
What if it will break my heart?
I take out my hand and sit back
I stare at that mystery bag and think
What if I choose not to take anything?
Will I be safe and sound then?
Nothing to cause my fear or dread?
No broken heart
Who wants a mystery in life anyway?
I do...
Life is always seeking what's around the next corner, who will I meet, where will I be, will I be happy. Keep life a mystery to keep it interesting and exciting.
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