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Fabiconni Oct 14
Already within us, what we chase
full of abundance but not in meagre
Not hidden in the depth of oceans
Not burned by the falling of Sun
Not crushed by the Andes
It is within us, around us
we seek fortune but it's not real
it can be felt when rightfully braven
all when time and space calmly given.
Be Free
Fabiconni Oct 14
clouds are visible, efforts are not
strike of the wind and sun's heat;
disturbs the water for good and bad
blows the realism to sky's head;
It is the garden but not of Eden
through the spinal and mind is the den;
it cries out and aloud
bring me the rain of glorious cloud.
Rain of Thoughts
I  And  l
    ========

I am daily tormented by me
For I don't harken my own words
To keep restraint and be wise.
    I hate me and
    scold me
    And at times feel
    pity of me
    In this tussle
    between me and
                         me.
I am my foe who
Pulls me down
And also a friend who pushes me up

Whom should l praise or blame in this duality
Giving me a so called individuality.
silvervi Sep 18
Love is confusing these days
Some say it never stays
The others claim
It only comes after some time,
When you and your partner
Left the infatuation behind.

Some say Love is spiritual,
It is the truth, the energy,
that holds the universe in an embrace...
It was always here
and in our hearts it remains.

Each verse shows me
Whatever love means
or is meant to be -
I know less and less
But at least I confess
My pure unknowingness
honestly, how many definitions of love are out there? Aren't you, too, confused?
We are all bewildered dancers
Lost in an incomprehensible ballet—
Woven tightly through a rich tapestry,
Drawn from contrasting colors,
Yet forming a boundless whole,
Waltzing hand in hand—
In love and hate, joy and suffering,
Dark and light, death and life.

The universe—a radiant church window,
Fracturing light into polychromatic unity,
Drifting shards of stained glass,
Piercing through the drama of duality,
Rippling into a sea of endless complexity,
Wedged between the boundaries
of stars and the space that forms them,
A perfection found in imperfection,
Beneath this sea of contrast lies truth:
How could we be anything at all
Without two sides to make us whole?

Before the technicolor skies formation,
We were the loneliest deity,
Infinity alone in a room made of itself,
Where everything was everywhere,
And time unfolded all at once.
So we crafted ourselves a dream—
From the core of our mirrored soul,
A place where I am you and you are me,
So we may live and perish in grace.

So we may play a game with ourselves,
Performing on this boundless stage,
An intricate puzzle piece,
Fitting together in a dance of chaos,
Meticulously designed to deceive ourselves,
So we may treasure life in the face of death.
Navigators of the in-between,
Wandering the maze of nothingness.

If infinity could dream,
Its deepest longing would be
To grasp something real—
To feel the grass beneath its feet,
As it runs across the hills of our earth,
Savoring the fleeting bliss of it all.

The present is so precious,
It hints at a reason we call it so—
A split second glimpse of meaning
In the eternal dance of existence.
Humans tread this lonely universe,
as an ever-dispersing body,
but our I’s never meet.

Behind the velvet curtains of our minds,
within the iris of our eyes,
rests an endless expanse of stars,
refracting off a crystalline hall of mirrors—
a boundless,
eternal reflection,
devoid of every word.

Whispering so softly in us,
behind all thought, all form,
revealing everything,
yet ultimately nothing—
nothing at all.
My body is a paintbrush—
Weaving its soul into the fabric of time,

Living out its own slice of infinity,
Across this canvas made of memory,

Dripping upon the hardwood floor,
To trickle up my slender spine,

Slipping into my porcelain skull,
like a blade to the softest silk,

So gentle, it almost feels natural,
rotting my mind like red wine,
a beautiful corpse,

Decaying into lost photographs never captured,
That drift without purpose,
in the arms of a motherly wind,
To which death is but a dream.
My eyes are pure sunlight,
Streaming through this window,

My body- merely dust,
Waltzing through our classroom,

My soul sleeps on this ruby floor,
Bathing in my midday glow,

Filling every imperfection,
every crack and crevice,

To blanket your eyes,
With my fiberglass fingers,
Until my ghost seems to shine.
arsonpoet Aug 27
what makes us beautiful? printed notes sanctioned by the government? three layers of plastic that attaches to the skin. electricity that runs in your spines, blue rays invading your lonely night. a night where jasmine’s weep because you’ve lost sight of their existence.what makes us beautiful? pixelated rays emitting diodes of dopamine. colours and colours of chrome attached to screens. what makes us beautiful, then? 360 degree surveillance across borders and borders of human civilisations. what makes us beautiful then? maybe a solitary ray of sun as it wraps around your face at dawn? but how would you know that, as you’re doused from the pixels of yesterday, making you numb enough to make sleep through the morning.
how many years would we waste stuck inside our screens?
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