too late to feel again even the broken can be restored and given a second chance. just sit back and relax. good things will come to those who patiently wait for fate. you thought that was the end of your world but the end, is just the beginning and those good things are never-ending it's not, too late to feel again. change your heart and mind and don't drown in the depths of time sublime.
To justify the word "Perfect" All great artists Have invested Some more ink Some more color Some more truth Some more sense Some more time Some more endorphin Some more emotion To detail Their perception Honoring the spirit With passion to prime Their enthusiasm And insight to give Eternal life endlessly Consoling their soul They invest Nothing more
Theme: How good things can be Author's Note: If I get all of the colors A canvas to paint And freedom to reflect I will start from white The color of light
In the recesses of my mind
Lies a fearless monster Whose heart is blessed and blind And whose love grows forever Its beauty glows of a shine That suns and moons polish brighter And its pain draws a line That tears and turns into laughter Its madness is of wisdom a shrine And its lightness can never grow paler For He expresses the sublime That my aches breed for you, dear Reader.
When a soldier marches, where does his focus go?
Forward? To glory or doom? His mind filled with stories of honour and pride of wars long ago? Backward? Of the life, they left behind? To the wife, the child back home? The medals to be shown as trinkets or to speak never more? Have they ever stopped to look around? Of the country, to be or not to be? The mountains, the rivers, the towns and to the sea. The damage to be caused? The life preserved? Regardless, the solider marches
If lucky, we accrue the time
that makes us me and you it is sublime and wholly human too
Are you ready?
Let's talk something different Beautiful, and raw Silent, yet profound Devotion, and surrender Thoughts, and beyond Let's talk about the things You can't neglect The thing you understand And the things you want to understand better Let's talk more About the background And the challenges Tonight Let's talk about soul feeds And the common sense Namaste
Theme: Back To Basic
The Other Side
Look through me so that I can see you naturally Surprise me Do not hinder your reveal I appreciate your humanness The blood that sings when you think of me in golden evenings I know. That you can hear me learning I feel your brain’s creativity on my spine That is beauty speaking to the core Growing one breath at a time before we meet again
A first true love is undoubtedly the most powerful and wonderful
a man crested his hill, he viewed the world around him. never before had he seen such ferociousness.
he was viewing something no souls had ever encountered. he was, for the first time in his life, the first. he fell to his knees— water crashed below, as the tangles of pine closed in on his frail form. he believed the world built this view for him, and only him. only— the world built this view for no reason. the serendipity of the hill he collapsed on was marveled by the man. he wept. alone, in a world only he would ever see exactly as is. cries to the heavens were silenced. his own drive to rise again fell off the cliff face. he simply watched. vines creeped up his torso. snakes nestled under his legs. his hair melted with the spring thaw, then washed away with the rain. his eyes never faded. his mind never dulled. he simply sat and waited. he waited for god to extend His hand. what else should one do in front of the sublime?
i’m not quite sure what i was going for but i hope you enjoyed!
When she walked it was as though
the wind would move her she would flow like summer breeze one could barely behold the perfection – oh the ease with which she moved Each step was like the ballet like Swan Lake was set afoot in the person of her womanhood she, like no other could Men fell in states of blunder and ladies shapes of awe for none could stand before her not one resist her call The Mona Lisa in the flesh a living work of art her subtlety betrayed her a disguise she ill could wear Her modesty set before her a veil that through would shine the loveliness of her countenance the lady so sublime I saw her once.
poem speaks for itself