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Gabs T May 18
Nature has no master
But neither does she
Perhaps it is a futile endeavor which men have attempted for centuries to no avail,

To gather her water
To fight against a stone fence as it returns to the earth
Or keep drought from ravaging crops

Can she be had?
To tame her would be a self ruining task
As destructive to the settled as the settlor

Can nature be courted?
Gifted crowns of daisies and garlands of lilac
From her own bounty springs forth more and more
What is there to give to a source of such abundance

But her winter is ruthless!
Taking the young from the flock
Sweetness cannot exist without the bite
That dull void she harbors within

And when summer comes,
She leaves sweat trailed amongst the harvest
With golden wheat stalks strewn about

To tame the wheel of seasons would be futile
Those who came before were swept along clinging to her spokes

So, does she appreciate hesitation?
The willingness to relinquish control
The embracing of uncertainty

Or will she carry on
in her infinite self-assured
forward momentum
Awaiting the next
.•° ☼ °•.

Pain keeps you awake
So you don't fall asleep.



@lightinthedarknesspoetry
Thanks for being here. Until the next verse.

For more information, explore the contents of the poetry blog and check out @lightinthedarknesspoetry on social platforms. "S" is a collection of poems titled "Seasons" by M. E. Kuşaslan, featured on Hello Poetry.
.•° ☼ °•.

Old wounds disappear beneath the sun,  
New pursuits rise, and journeys run.



@lightinthedarknesspoetry
Thanks for being here. Until the next verse.

For more information, explore the contents of the poetry blog and check out @lightinthedarknesspoetry on social platforms. "S" is a collection of poems titled "Seasons" by M. E. Kuşaslan, featured on Hello Poetry.
.•° ☼ °•.

The city's lights blur into dawn,
What if I was just gone —
Spun ceaselessly from a wheel,
No eyes are drawn.



@lightinthedarknesspoetry
Thanks for being here. Until the next verse.

For more information, explore the contents of the poetry blog and check out @lightinthedarknesspoetry on social platforms. "S" is a collection of poems titled "Seasons" by M. E. Kuşaslan, featured on Hello Poetry.
.•° ☼ °•.

The stamina maintains, then suddenly raises the bar,
No chamber to breathe, no time left to turn back,
Nothing annihilates you faster than your mind,
Remember to carry the joy that's passed you by.



@lightinthedarknesspoetry
Thanks for being here. Until the next verse.

For more information, explore the contents of the poetry blog and check out @lightinthedarknesspoetry on social platforms. "S" is a collection of poems titled "Seasons" by M. E. Kuşaslan, featured on Hello Poetry.
.•° ☼ °•.

After a long time,
I am finally home,
feeling whole again,
in the presence of the
Lord of the universe.



@lightinthedarknesspoetry
Thanks for being here. Until the next verse.

For more information, explore the contents of the poetry blog and check out @lightinthedarknesspoetry on social platforms. "S" is a collection of poems titled "Seasons" by M. E. Kuşaslan, featured on Hello Poetry.
MetaVerse May 8
2
in Sp
ring
when song
birds

singjoy
fully,
dying
is

dull
;but
fat worms
****

**** thunder
are the
raindrops
fal

ling&stain
ing the
side
walk,rin

sing off
the
col
orful chalk
Over the last four summers
I merely looked out of the
five bay windows of my
brown brick walled birdcage
where primordial shadows
meet and dance in the street performing rituals in the
warm, wild & windy midnight
air.

I was only
a lonely observer.

But late one night deep
in the heart of the fifth
summer, I sensed an
odd strength surging
through
my weakened wings--
equally born of physical
and emotional pain and
desperation.

I quietly opened the
door of my cage, glided
down the driveway and
onto the street below,
enticed by warm blustery
and liberating midnight
winds under the strange
glow of moonlight through

translucent
sunbaked
and
cracked
clay
clouds,

no longer just admiring
the view of the dancing
shadows on the asphalt
floor through
windows, but actually
feeling the shadows of
those living branches
and leaves dance with
my shadow and
caressing my

hair
face
arms
legs
mind
and
spirit

as I did a
low test flight with
them for
only about forty feet
over and along the
back street below.

I longed to continue
my solo night flight
like a bird through
the midnight air in
currents of streets
and hundreds of miles
of highway where my
baby and I could head
across the

Sea of Change
and of Destiny

where we could at last
be truly free in our
hearts, in our minds,
and also physically.

But like a well-trained
domesticated bird
I reluctantly returned
to the large cage of my
mind where I continue
to dream of being free--

my
gentle
companion
and
me.
PLEASE NOTE:

PHYSICAL AND SPIRITUAL REHABILITATION GREATLY
HELPS YOU APPRECIATE THE LITERAL AND METAPHORICAL BEAUTY OF THE SEASONS AND OF NIGHT AND DAY .
Kenshō May 3
Bloom is in season.
The birds sing for a reason.

The river's motion
Seems to have a notion
For every rock around the bend.

Mushrooms are smiling a tinge.

Not a thing is strange.
Infinity has no range.

Take a token.
The thing left unspoken:
What He thinks of Hymn.

The fields of time melt beneath my feet
And the rain is slightly sweet.

Dew of the divine drops
And gains back again.

Time is a loop of sorts,
Everything ends where it begins again.

Eternity is a moment
And it never ended again.

You know every drop ascends in

The End

Again.
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