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Wordsmith Dec 2018
Particles collate, clouds gather
An uprising it seems, stronger together
Resolute it stands, till it holds no further
As any body collapses, under mounting pressure

Little drops to torrential downpour
The inconvenience it brings, just what we abhor
Struggle we must with virtuous patience
If we are to enjoy befallen petrichor

Trees are fed, flowers bloom
From this garden, brilliance loom
As all things present, this too is transient
A reality so poignant, about an existence impermanent

Leaves frail, flowers wither
Consumed by soil from which it consumed
No such thing as eternal bliss
Such are the laws of our symbiosis

We arrive from dust and depart as stench
A reality from which, we shouldn't flinch
As we gaze into a horizon so eternal
All we have, are moments so ephemeral
“The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.” ― Alan Wilson Watts

"We arrive from dust and depart as stench" - Words not my own. Can't rem where I picked it up from
Olivia V Aug 2017
softly, she weeps
warm tears falling,
tracing her contours.
a breeze, so soft,
moves through her.
it's silent tonight,
and so is she.

tendrils of green,
sway above her.
a dance of despair,
of solace and sadness.
and she joins
and moves with the wind.

she thinks and she thinks,
of ephemeral air.
how it stirs and caresses,
then dissipates and departs,
only to sweep across mountains and valleys.

she wishes to be,
no more than a breeze.
gentle but strong,
to be felt by all yet seen by none.

the willow above,
with its weeping green,
grazes her cheeks,
and beckons her gently
to join with those currents,
in their invisible journey.

and so her body fades,
and she leans to the tree,
the drapery of leaves
enfolding her like a lover.

if one were to glance
at the willow tree,
they would see a girl no longer there
would see only tendrils of green,
swaying in the wake of some wind.

in her place,
there is now a silent emptiness.
and the willow still weeps
with joy for her freedom,
in despair that she's gone.
Dyrr Keusseyan Nov 2016
Those who passed the gate,
                              don't ask the gate keeper
Those who ask the gate keeper,
                              haven't yet passed the gate.

It is easy to be indifferent,
                              and not take action,
Easy to fool one another,
                              and view morality as an abstraction,

What has long been neglected,
                              cannot be fixed right away,
Regretting past fault and folly,
                              Brings potential; Don't stray from The Way.
SøułSurvivør Mar 2015

water bubbles
reflecting there are
golden koi

depth of feathers
ancient moonlight
is the buoy

around the
blue-grey stone's
sand is raked
in perfect poise

has its
crickets make
a creaking noise


within the
island garden
small and jewel-like
in the grove

kimono and the obi
there's a peace
the Nippon know

muted colors
placid faces
the paper lanterns
sway and glow

the lords and ladies
sit for hours

— The End —