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In another life,
perhaps it was
you and I—
there, we laughed
a little more,
held on
a little longer.

But here,
we’re fragments,
familiar faces,
strangers in the heart.

We spoke of other lives,
but, I wonder—
do you see
we’re bound to this one,
with only one chance
to learn our way through?
This poem reflects the bittersweet notion of a connection that could have flourished in a different reality, a sense of longing for a love that somehow feels both familiar and distant. Inspired by the idea that while we may feel tied to someone across different lifetimes, we only truly have the present—this life—as our one chance to bridge that connection. Consider the beauty and urgency of living fully in the here and now, as we may only have this one shot to explore what could be.
Shaezah Oct 16
When the apocalypse comes, I will remember the days I was not allowed to be myself.
When the land will tremor, the insects inside me will crawl towards the edge of my soul.
The regrets beneath me will lay out like a web of cracks on an aged wall with no end.
When my body will be underneath the fallen ceiling, I will wail remembering the burden of my emptiness that once felt like nothingness.
When the keepers of my soul will put a name to my existence, I will designate it as "life",
And if they tell me that reincarnation is real, I will still want to be me but with a different mind,
And in any parallel world, if flowers would fall from the sky, I will want to be me but with a different heart,
And if they will tell me that life will be short, I'll be a chirping bird in the eyes of my cat.
I'll be the sound of dripping water that fascinates a little girl.
I'll be a saccharine melody in the times of war.
I'll be a moment of an autumn leaf falling onto a bed of dry leaves.
I'll be a nimbus cloud to a deserted barren land.
I'll be a book in the bag of a poor boy.
I'll be a candy in the hands of a child,
I'll be the essence of lilies to a pleasing garden.
I'll be a beam of revolt to a captured slave.
I'll be a proud smile on a martyr's mother.
I'll be the infinite possibilities of incarnation after the apocalypse.
Billie Marie Oct 13
I call to my own depths
and the love of my life appears
and manifests my long ago forgotten dream.

So now I live the dream
knowing it is illusive and imagined
and infused with the flavor of realness.
Yet, only I am real and it
is seen by no one that this too is
an unreality. Nothing sees itself.
Nothing yearns for nothing.
Blank void cries and laughs
at its own reflection and
make-believes its world to exist
only for its own amusement.

Come play, my only friend!
Go away then come once more
to me and let us dance and laugh
and sing again and again in being
all the varied endless waves.
Drab Sep 29
Is there life after death?
Makes me think of that sometimes
Will I be or just get
A pile of dust and bone chip lies.

I listen to those who fear this scene
And tell me that I am unclean
If I don’t try to follow thee
There won’t be a place for little old me

Except down under the earth and sea
Perhaps a better place for me.

Unless of course there is a hell
And then I’m ******* if judged too well
So when I’m six feet in the ground
I hope I don’t even hear a sound.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
selina Feb 28
there's this theory, my mom once told me,
that liars are always reincarnated as dogs
i've been thinking a lot about people dying lately
and i've also started counting time in dog years
according to such, it's been about two long dog decades
i don't miss you anymore, and i'm about done grieving you
(you would've just called me out- i'm a liar through and through)
and i found that if i drink enough, you're still here, well and alive
your mom never cries or loops your old playlists when she drives
your dad never comes over to gift me souvenirs from your life
your sister never learns to shape grief into an essay in one night
no, you're still helping her brainstorm what exactly to write
we stay up together, on facetime, stressing the the entire night
and she chooses premed because of a torn ACL, not a torn family
and we spend hours debating if she should submit her SATs
and grief is only ever-so-distant, yet only oh-so-familiar
we have it our way: it is never more than a recognizable stranger
i write you in present tense, you agree: dogs in our next life
i gaslight, i lose my mind, i'm convinced anything's worth a try-
so, how many poems do you think i have to write
for it to be enough to bring a friend back to life?
been a minute since i've updated this profile wow!
I have not grown wiser in my waning years
more bitter
more disappointed
more beaten
'what's your advice to me old man?'
advice?
while the world crumbles around us?
let's just hope that there is more than what we know
for if the world is left to drift further into the abyss
without intervention
then who will see these words?  
or come say a prayer over your memory?
I always thought it cruel that if our soul moves from one to another
we don't recall the previous life...
or is it just one life with no memory?
I want to remember for we shall certainly leave the ashes of this dismal place...
soon
and all those memories will be lost
in time

(R.I.P. - Rutger Hauer)
A nod to Rutger
George Krokos Nov 2023
Life is just a long or short journey,
for every creature in this world,
that includes birth, growth, death
and reincarnation or rebirth in the
One and only Infinite Being
of Eternal Conscious Existence or God,
where the main real objective and purpose of it is
for God to realize and know Himself,
through that of all of His
highest evolved forms in creation,
which are human beings,
be it any man or woman,
by a process of Involution and Realization
as being Omnipresent, Infinite and Eternal
and to experience,
for those who attain the goal;
which can only be attained here on the earth,
the infinite divine power, knowledge, love and bliss,
which are all the very essence and true nature
of That Indivisible and Unfathomable Creator.
____
Written Nov'2016. Inspired by an artist's painting that was commissioned by Meher Baba, a spiritual master of the 20th Century, to go with his book titled 'God Speaks' which is one of the 10 books listed that have really helped me to shape and inspire my life to understand the world and the hidden spiritual path that all human beings are indeed traveling on.
George Krokos Nov 2023
Man is still very much like an animal though he has a human form
and continues to evolve with the passage of time which is the norm.
He has arrived with the impressions that are of the lower creation
to erase them from his psyche as he moves up to a higher station.
The various races of people in the world give an indication of this
by the way they live and eat or means of survival we can't dismiss.

There's also the observation that some people look like animals
perhaps due to a strong relationship, in past lives, to those in stalls;
a few similarities can be seen in the behaviour and existence
of some people to creatures of a lower form with consistence.
It's likely here that a human soul in the reincarnating phase
is still shedding impressions according to this theory we praise.

However, nature's provided man with ways of progressing higher
developing and cultivating his mind and intelligence to go further.
By overcoming those obstacles which hold him down to the earth
he's able to rise above his lowly origins that come with his birth.
This creative evolutionary push seems to have favored certain people
for we only have to look around in the world regardless of any steeple.

There's also the little known factor of the ages which the earth goes through,
together with the rest of the solar system, that are not obvious to view.
For the earth and the rest of the planets revolve around the sun we know
but what does the sun together with all the planets revolve around and go?
Science hasn't yet found out apart from the center of our milky way galaxy
which is what everything else in it happens to do as well for it's a guarantee.

These ages numbering four last for about twenty four thousand years
as the sun revolves around something greater than itself and so bears
the weight of responsibility for what goes on within its own domain
much like the seasons of the year that on the earth we know to sustain.
For as the sun moves closer* to its center of orbit there's a gradual change
that goes on within the mind of man and his environment of a huge range.

The rise and fall of all those past civilizations is a good indication of this
with the current advancement in technology we're also unable to dismiss.
For we're all going through an acceleration in the acquisition of knowledge
that's being revealed as we move into the present age with all our baggage.
And until we reach the saturation point that may just be a long way off yet
we'll continue to evolve and find things out that hopefully we won't regret.
_________
Notes: *or further away from.
Written Dec'22. This could be one of the most challenging philosophical poems anyone may read. I sincerely hope that no one is offended but the subject matter is not meant to be racist as we're all in the same boat of existence in one way or another moving forward with an evolutionary push. As far as the mention of any Ages that the Earth passes through I've written another poem titled: 'The Mystery of the Four Ages' which explains a little more about these 'Ages' and has also been posted on HP for some time. My main objective is to inform about things that I've found out about and believe to be true unless proven wrong for this is part of the push that we're all going through to find out about the truth of our existence and which fascinates me.
Rama Krsna Oct 2023
truth be told,
the ticking hourglass will never be our friend.
cos it keeps pushing my milky way
farther away from yours.

somewhere along the way,
you found dharma.
leaving me to waltz on that dance floor alone,
like i did to you, millenniums ago!

back then, i became
poet, philosopher, king and the lord of the universe.
while you stayed behind,
a shy country lass with lotus eyes
pining for my love.

in the quarrels of love and life,
you hid my golden flute
and threw away my loaded dice,
which helped me win
the mundane games of *** for tat.
leaving me now with an inexhaustible quiver of karmas eager to fructify.

as i stand here in a tree pose
regulating my incoming breath,
i the yogi
eagerly await for our galaxies to turn,
perhaps, even collide and kiss some day.

© 2023
this poem was written from the first word to the last without a pause in thought
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