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acacia Dec 2018
I am not living up to my expectations. The stars told me once my purpose is higher than this.

I'm supposed to be swinging in the breeze,
changing perspectives as the dawn's drawn dauphin does,
living in clouds, reflecting time.

How is it I have transformed into a secondary color?
Into Holden's yellow, Eyre's red, and Earth's brown.

I sometimes conclude my soul was put into the wrong vessel –
maybe I was supposed to be a tree, a bird, or a fish.
Perhaps, more discreet: the branches on a tree, the feathers on a bird, or the scales on a fish.
I'd want to be myelin from the chanterelle (to help connect).

That is me: in time, in reality, in relativity. In the womb, out the womb;
woven into nature and out of sight, not supposed to be heard; behind the scenes, hushed stage crew.

But still, you try to take me and make me the brightest star in your galaxy.

Is that where I'm supposed to be? In space, in a star, or maybe I am a star. To burn out after years,
and bloom again (like a flower, since flowers and stars and we are very alike.)

I'm supposed to be limpid, colorful, and skyey;
die in winter, born in spring.
That is supposed to be me (for eternity).

That is all I am. Shades of color, and soft dust built up.
did anyone notice my Windhover reference? :)
ZenOfferings Nov 2018
The cell phone rings once
But the ringing in my head…
...The sound of your voice
after painfully separating
the colors in intricate patterns
she allows herself the full glimpse
of her daily labors. and without
hesitation brushes the dry earth,
along with her work.

her long fingers unfurling,
the long and brittle parts
breaking into sand.

7 November 2018
literary exercise "hands" ; remembered natgeo clips, one from a monk in ornage robes and another woman from India, creating mandalas from colored sand only to brush it with the earth as soon as they finish.

**** it, what's wrong why wont asterisks for italics work now?
Val Vik Oct 2018
~ One day will come
when I am part of the Universe. ~

~ My soul lingers to reincarnate
from the roots of the tree,
and the body wills to bring life to another.

~ to become part of breathe ~
~ mind eternally at peace ~

I will become a flower.
I'll walk on the clouds
and my waters will fill the rain. ~

Hasn't it come true?
~Samsara no longer a punishment~

was written in 2013 (maybe even later) by mini me
as a Freestyle.
acacia Jun 2018
To be a human and to
drift in and out of
here does not seem plausible.

But when I am to die and I
open my eyes, I’ll find that I am washed
up on shore.

Somewhere between my birth and death,
memories continue to be made and fade.

To be free from this cycle 
of life, death and repeat,
will be the ultimate goal.

I want to be free. To live a life in valleys,
to sit in grass,
to wade along the shoreline.
i’m constantly comparing myself to others.
Zani Jul 2017
How I feel the time tighten
The temporal noose tickles my throat
Swaying in the nothingness
I do so crave of late

How many hours in the day
Must I conjure the joker
Just in the nick
To salvage my neck
From fate herself?

Why wait for the sand to drop?
When grains of pure ambrosia
Are clustered in the crystal shard
I so wish to crush
For all to feast on what has passed

Dispersed in the ocean of tranquility
I may rest awhile from test of metal
This trivial mental ordeal
Will kaleidoscope the stars

You will breathe me then
Will be closer and complete
This drip feed of love is not enough
So I plead to be defeated

It drowns me in waves of notions
That I should sign myself as absent
Until the indefinite motion
Of the universal spin frees me
From the karmic balance of things

Like this I do see this branch trimmed short
Stunted and pruned before the ripe
With this contorted hope
I may become the light
That I am when I soar in my dreaming

Yet I wake breathing bound by fleshy bonds
So dull in the spectrum of ****** sadness
I confess it is time to end this mess
Let the prophecy contemplate timing

Until that shiny moment
I will sigh and play along
To the tormenting throng
That beckons my presence here
For one day longer

For just one day longer
I will be strong
I will pretend what I feel
Is proven wrong by living reason

Until my patience depleted
Will unmask what we believe
Of this carnal marathon
Racing on the wheels of Samsara
K Balachandran Jun 2017
Each day dawning would
gift me new eyes of wonder,
right from my childhood
a  friend, from this lone and lonely tree,
I'd fervently hope for something different,
rushing  to the window,
I view that  elegance
as the first auspicious thing
to gaze at, as the custom suggests.

After the morning light creates a pool
above the verdant hills at the east,
yet again a regular ritual,
the tree is my magical yard stick
by which I measure myself,
a mysterious pact between us
existed, deep in mind, I had felt
only we know between us
even if the breeze says, that aloud often.

In her presence every thing becomes clear.

As I watch the tree, as usual
after the repetitions of long
years of rain, shine and mist in between,
what I saw that moment was different:
On every branch seeking light,
bristled flowery wonders
songbirds, absent till the day before
in droves sat all over the crown,
in unison singing her paeans sonorously,
purple rays of morning sun
adorned each leaf, in colorful embrace.

Wasn't it the moment I was yearning for?
I stood filled with it's effulgence,crown to root
the connection in an instance, becomes clear,
there is no secrets left unsaid between  us any more--
In a flash , a golden window opens in inner chamber
I feel free from, the bindings of all mundane desires
as one rows the boat, the miseries of Samsara,
the treacherous rapids, are left behind for ever.

Isn't it enlightenment, at the moment
seeking me unassumingly through my open windows?
Zero Nine Jun 2017
I said I would leave

My hand
Never
Left the door

Or left
Your

Tender little heart

In what time it takes to grow I thought I would grow more
In the time it takes to take a break I thought I could explore ignorance and never return to melancholia.

I know I said I would leave but I return
Didn't I warn you before that I need you?
I am desperate to warm you and freeze your brittle bones.

I thought departure would heal the wounds I deeply knew only square paper under the tongue fixed though I know if I never left I would never have felt the heartbeat of my apartment.

I thought I could leave but I have to write.
I could have sworn I did not need you when the beginning and the end of my existence run completely through you, sometimes you only, those who see Samsara, know their place, still cling, and me, I cling to you.
One.

Kisses.
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