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Ruchira Mar 12
Life is full of anomalies for

using words to express
When silence could do a better job

And keeping memories where regrets keep following us
When ignorance could be much blissful

And having dreams where future controls our present
When to exist is what matters the most

Life is full of anomalies for what,

We may be wanderers of the world
But we need a place called home

We need a sky to soar
Yet a hand to hold

We feel Just in chaos
When peace could be a beautiful place

Life is full of anomalies for what
We find wisdom in paradox....
- Jan 25
Everything is alive.
The spirit of life is endowed in every
Material and immaterial existence.
Life is an unstoppable force.
Life is contagious.
Life begets life and propagates
Ad infinitum.
Life is desire itself.
Every thing yearns to be alive
And every thing that is fading
Desperately reaches out for the suckle
Of that elusive, all-encompassing elixir.
Life is transient. It is delicate and strong.
It is a force itself which does not move Time
So much as imbue it with Meaning.
Life is tumultuous, unsteady, and capricious.
It wants to “go” in an atemporal sense.
It occupies the past, present, and future at once
But its movement is linear and certain.
It can splinter and halt.
Life is miraculous.
It implies the incomprehensible Divinity
Of Being. It is Absurd.
Life is defiant, stubborn, and strong-headed.
It can Be when no one is looking and in spite of
The skeptical spectator.
Every thing respires as one. Life is unity.
Life is paradox.
Life is
Don't believe
You tell
I follow you
I don't believe what you tell
I don't believe in "Don't believe, seek"
I believe
I don't seek
So in following you
I don't follow you
A following non-follower!
What if i just packed my bags and ran away,
never showed up through the light of day,
This life seems like a paradox we live throughout our own thoguhts,
this world, the touch, the love we see and feel, is it even all real?
One day when i lay through my flower bed,
am i in a matrix of never ending dreams, from horror and love to all things that seem real when i lay my head to sleep?
Dreams are recurring but so is this life, so tell me this now
are we in a dream when we open our eyes, or do we just dream when we close our eyes?
I want to feel love, no pain but pleasure,
I want to seek something more high of a real temptation to live in this world,
but when you're trapped with just your fantasied thoughts,
how can we truly know when to stop?
I woke up this Morning, came back to my bedroom and thoughts began to linger in my mind and this is what was said.
john Dec 2020
so last night i was kicking rocks at reality-
trying to flip the entire universe like a pancake
but the moon laughed at my fruitless toil
for the universe exists in paradox-
and in my night watch
i dug into the soil
and ended up on the shoulders
of our planet
her inhabitants try to make sense
of imperceptible subjects
such as why
who has sealed
all things within her palms
to bar philosophers
who have made gods of reason
i dare to worship
to be smothered in the
beauty of what is
and is
with or without description.
and so i look inward to quest(ions)
which are themselves, answers-
as i am a universe.
Leah Carr Nov 2020
Many won't believe it
Until they see proof
But often you can't see the proof
Until you believe it
Today's thought :)
Seranaea Jones Nov 2020

she stands there with
equal curiosity and
reaches as i do
towards the

how we both
could dismiss the
truth of the glass—

we each think
alike and are of
the same mind

in each other's
convictions of

the warmth
of our fingertips

to prove we each
exist on opposite

wishing to join
one another

looking deep into
focused eyes


to allow the
other's hand
to slip aside


s jones

She is fond of sunsets,
yet prefers sunrise.
She cares about the weak heart,
yet is uncaring about her own.
She is surrounded by devils,
yet manages to find angels.
She is kind all the while,
yet mean at times.
She is faithful to the windy winter,
yet admires the soft summer.
She is passionate about her love,
yet apathetic in an irregular manner.
She is roughly foreseeable,
yet effortlessly unpredictable.
She is able to be whole,
yet unable to have a piece.
She is easily melted by the fire,
yet controls the tough cold core.
She lives in her own fantasies,
yet awaits an unpoetic reality.
She is a prepossessing paradox.
- Aishwarya Kulkarni
Niel Nov 2020
The self-pitying poor me’s
That restless selfish agenda
Spreader spoiled butter
                              on a fine piece of toast
The boastful explanation
                            on a beautiful landscape
It needs no explaining
And interpretations are
subjective speculations only
Nothing of a permanent fixture
As is with a and the cycle proceeds
My feeding seems undone and useless
Fits feel necessary but I don’t have the space
And never will because
Excuses are easy to come by
What’s the point anyway?
The anointing paradoxes
all lead to the same Sufferings
Opening my arms to embrace it
But nearly everytime
The struggle’s met with more of the same
The fight in a boxful of mirrors
All showing those beautiful flaws
Of which I’d rather frown at,
                      than spring a chuckle
And I am a cuckold in all this
Because I grasp the branch
                  while being pulled in a current
Instead of letting the river release me
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