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One day I will transit beyond
My strives and thrives to drop.
Then, you will tell tales of my kindness
Or tales of my weakness
Lo, I won't hear none!

With time, I will be a memory
Once in a while you will remember my stories
My smiles or nags will flash in your mind
You may regret for not being there
You may even doubt my being holy.

Well, one day I will be gone
My body in the ground alone
And spirit in another world.
No more me to hate or love
Time to count your gain or loss.

One day I will be dust
Left alone with no more ****
My sins and truths before Him
That moment to harvest my truths and faults
The one that outweighs one determines my cross.

Indeed, one day you will wake up in the cold
You will meet my body with no soul
What will be the reason for your cry?
Or will you celebrate it with a smile?
Surely, one day will define our vain lives.
Mihle Mdashe Mar 5
It only lasts for a limited period of time, coincidence this just describes my happiness or the beings in this life. It's crazy how nothing never lasts, I've forgotten the sound of my laughter. I fall for a temporary high, my temporary escape; what I think I need to get by . I want anything but temporary, I crave for something that will be permanent. My soul acquiesce to anything temporal, but I now renounce all that. I just despise how confidence seems to vanish right at the time you need it the most, I mean there will be days where my dear friend confidence will be there but what's the use of her when she'll just disappear the moment a remark would be made about me. Whenever that angry voice in these four walls in my mind would tell me "you're ****" "you're too skinny or too fat". I tried to recover, I tried my best to get better but somewhere along the way I realised it was all temporary. I fell apart again, I lost again and they'd laugh at me! Crying myself to sleep seems like the best option but I go with the unhealthy coping mechanism; slitting my wrists. The pain seems acceptable for awhile but what happens when you got so used to the blade that you can't even cope without it. I thought it was temporal, I thought I'd manage without it but I'd tell myself "one cut upon that wrist means a step closer to goodbye".
This is my story with self harm and how self harm became a crutch to me.
The words ring hollow
time and time again
hard to grasp, or swallow
above beyond, no win

Lines been put together
like crumbs upon the wind
no leash and yes, no tether
like angel wings, been pinned

Blood like ink from feather
heart and soul described
dire is the coldest weather
felt deep and far, inside

Hear what you will and may
read into the lines and prose
rhyming while still at play
right up until, the close

So say the corporeal
and give the devil due
mayhap called temporal
ending here
in fugue
Just a touch of what it means
some truth some bitter time
like finding that in the end
gone spoiled has
fine whine
D:
Momoir Jan 22
Money;
So temporal
helps us forget our morals
The damage it causes
contracts & clauses
people starving while others feast
without conscience, the evil beasts!!
That is the preoccupation in our world

Money;
confusing, making life all
twisted & twirled
Surely you can't compare it
To Gods eyes in the stars
His heart, the moon, sweet sister
Moonshine
Guides us in such a tormented world at such a darkened time.

Can you buy the sun?
Can you purchase the planet of love?
No,
But you sure do your best to pay for this destruction above

Money;
a horrid corruption
when all we really need is love
Written by my mother, June 1993
Stressed,
He promised to ride
A white steed in the sky
On the wind blowing in
From the south-east,
On the air that carries
Rain-laden clouds
And keeps the land fertile;
He wanted to meet the god,
The lord of thunder and rain.
Without a weapon in his hand  
He intended to rule the world,
Alter it with his love and care,
Forget old memories,
Sprinkle wealth and joy
Everywhere,
Earn its trust and faith
And be adored;
He desired to become a god;
He was very fragile;
He did not live long.
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?
ZenOfferings Oct 2018
Humble king’s castle
Heart of the just dominion
Gone with the high tide
Daniel Ruiz Oct 2018
one night i went to sleep thinking of you,
my body became a church,
your thought the holy spirit,
me sleeping was just,
finding new ways to hold your hips,
and smell your hair,

But it all just disperse in thin air
as i wake up,
and find out it was just a dream.
maybe a nightmare,
a blessing, sometimes a curse

i let out a small sigh,
as i step up from my bed,
and fall to the ground,
wishing i fell from a ten story building,

I'm bleeding now,
I've tried to destroy this temple,
that worships you,
but no matter how hard i hit,
no matter how fast i try to run and escape.

the only way to forget you,
it's to letting go of the keys
that open to those memories,
that the thought of you bring.
Dylan McFadden Mar 2018
“Time is short,
Life is fleeting –
Vanishing mist
At its appearing”

Some say,
“Look,
He’s so alive!”
But I say,
“Look,
He’s slowly dies!”

“Time is short,
Life is fleeting –
Vanishing mist
At its appearing”

To what will
Work and toil
Call?
If not all matters
None matters
At all

“Time is short,
Life is fleeting –
Vanishing mist
At its appearing”

If
Beginning and Ending
Then is “Nothing,”
How can
Today
Now be “Something”?

“Time is short,
Life is fleeting –
Vanishing mist
At its appearing”

There must be
More;
There must be
Life,
Apart from This,
It’s only strife…

“Time is short,
Life is fleeting –
Vanishing mist
At its appearing”
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