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Moo Dec 2024
Every day I die a certain way,
My sky is isn't infinite needless to say,
But under a sky you live,
That's not abandoned and astray,
The stars are for you to perceive,
In the horror of night skies darkness,
In darkness I grieve,
My God is different,
Mine is indifferent,
Not a friend nor a foe.
Shayank J Baruah Dec 2024
“I’m sorry black eyes don't get enough
love.
There's Hazel eyes,
Amber eyes,
But what about black?
Black the colour of the deepest night Of the universe and the unknown.
Of coal and obsidian.
Of the abyssal depths of the ocean.
of the pupil that dilates with passion, Don't even get me started
on when the light hits them.
Diamonds and stars,
Mysterious and alluring.
"But aren't black eyes so common?!"
So is the sky, So is the earth.
So is the beauty of the night sky and the Milky Way.
All mysteries and secrets of the universe have come together just to be put in your eyes.
Isn't that beautiful?"
Goddess of USR Dec 2024
She was both finite and boundless, a cosmic enigma wrapped in human skin. The words echoed within her—a celestial mantra. Half-human, half-stardust. And as she danced upon the threshold, the universe leaned in to listen.

Lola, the wanderer of cosmic threads, stepped through the veil of time, her heart a pulsing star. The secret laboratory's humming machinery had whispered promises of forgotten realms, and now, here she stood—amidst the ruins of a city lost to memory.

Atlantis, the name echoed in her mind like a half-remembered dream. Its pyramids, not of stone but of light, pierced the cerulean sky. Crystal temples, their facets catching the sun's kiss, stood as guardians of ancient knowledge. And the people—oh, the people—they moved with grace, their forms aglow, their eyes reflecting eons of wisdom.

Lola's golden aura resonated with theirs. She felt the pull of destiny, like a thread tugging her toward a forgotten purpose. Was she a seeker or a savior? Perhaps both.

The streets flowed like rivers, and she followed their currents. Telepathic whispers brushed her consciousness—a symphony of thoughts, hopes, and memories. They spoke of unity, of a shared consciousness that transcended flesh and bone. Here, the veil between worlds was gossamer-thin, and Lola danced upon its fragile strands.

She approached the meditators—a circle of souls anchored to the earth, yet reaching for the stars. Their eyes, ancient and kind, met hers. No words were needed; their minds entwined like ivy on a trellis.

"Welcome, Lola," the collective voice murmured. "We have been expecting you."

Lola's breath caught. How did they know her name? Had she journeyed here before, in another life, when the stars aligned differently? She sank into the circle, her knees bending as if in reverence.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her thoughts a ripple in their cosmic pond.

"We are the keepers of forgotten tales," they replied. "The architects of dreams. We remember when the world was young, and the sun kissed our brows. We remember when Atlantis thrived, and its light pulsed through every atom."

Lola closed her eyes, surrendering to their communion. She glimpsed visions—the city's zenith, its downfall, and the cataclysm that swallowed it whole. But there was hope, too—a seed of ascension buried deep within the collective soul.

"Tell me," Lola breathed, "how can I prevent your fall? How can I weave a different fate?"

Their laughter was like stardust. "Child of many lives, you cannot alter the past. But you can shape the future. Atlantis lives within you—in your curiosity, your longing. Let its light guide your choices."

And so, Lola sat, her mind a prism refracting possibilities. She learned their secrets—the art of thought-shaping, the dance of dimensions. She glimpsed the blueprint of a world where pyramids soared, and hearts beat in harmony.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting Atlantis in hues of amethyst, Lola stood. Her golden aura pulsed brighter. She would return to her laboratory, her quantum device, but she would carry this city within her—a beacon of forgotten majesty.

"Remember," they whispered, "the bending knee—the surrender to wonder. It is the key to ascension."

And with that, Lola stepped back through time, her heart echoing the collective hymn of a city reborn.
For the collective- sent with a thousand kisses 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋
Hebert Logerie Dec 2024
I am dreaming of a pitch-black Christmas night
Tonight, where the jolly stars can easily be seen
In the sky. From afar, the moon is clear and bright
And the clouds create a wonderfully divine scene.

I am dreaming of a dark black and arctic Noel night
Where all babies experience and see while asleep
The jamboree that I'm enjoying under the beam light
Of a flying sleigh. What I am saying is incredibly deep.

When the sky is pitch-black, there's always a party in Heaven
The angels wear an array of colors with their Sunday best
God sits atop, right in the middle of the feast in Eden.

I'm dreaming of a marriage between darkness and brightness
Where there is no evil, there is no Hell in man's consciousness
I‘m not sleeping but I'm dreaming like Baby Jesus in the nest.

Copyright © December 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
Madeon Dec 2024
And then the night comes –
she smells of fog
and secrets,
with stars looking down from above
and remaining silent.
I don't want to stay
On autopilot anymore
I wanna go home with a
Bouquet of wild flowers
Cook your favorite meal
And dance with you to
A Chet Baker song on
Our balcony by the
Light of the stars
I want to be here with my body and soul
If the stars stopped shining,
The night would be like the deep sea.
Dark and cold.

If the stars stopped shining,
The light from the sailor’s lanterns,
Would reflect off the sea,
Like sunset on the Antarctic ice.

And the shipmen and their saxtons,
Could not find their way back home.
And there would be a little boy in the window,
Every night.

Waiting for his father to return.
There would be a woman at the widow’s peak.
Waiting for her husband to come home.

If the stars stopped shining,
Would lovers still love each other?
Because if the stars stopped shining, I don’t know if I would still see you.
In that certain way I’ve grown to love.
I hope the stars keep shining. The night sky is boring without them.
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