how tranquil it would be
to sleep as deeply
as an anchor
at the bottom of the sea
Delicate purple hued.
Was never my favourite,
Until you pointed out,
It was yours.
In its calming scent.
Thoughts in mind.
When did it start?
Now - feeling drowsy,
Enough to make me sleep.
I close my eyes,
Greeted by the sweetest dream,
I felt like writing this after remembering an old conversation with a certain fellow. It was nice.
I look at you
and dream of sunflowers
because you told me once
that home was where the sunflowers were
and I’ve been awaiting summer since then.
This is actually a dialogue I plan to include in the fantasy book I am writing :)
The fall in this abyss is restful.
Once in a while, it seems peaceful.
Looking back at things is a whole lot worse,
Than falling in this abyss.
The descent is calming and tranquil,
Each second is blissful,
The air of divinity here slows the rush,
The rush of the haphazardly fashioned life.
In this abyss, I've found myself deep within.
All truths and lies are settled here.
All toxicity is cleansed here.
Here, I'm contented to be with myself.
The shed skin of the demon lies all over the place,
Still the heart stays and not abandons this phase.
The excellence department might be skipping days of work,
But the soul cannot cease to forget this work.
This moment can't live forever.
The way out is hard, not impossible,
The hardest part being to say goodbye to this entity of light and darkness.
I lay to rest.
Engross the words
under your breath.
They heal me
and lull my mind.
So I can dream,
dream to be fine.
the clouds were crying
to release the weight
from their shoulders.
yet there was no storm,
no ominous claps or flashes.
the sky was the lightest blue -
content, tranquil, at peace.
#escapril day 18!
There's a certain beauty in solitude
A lone, tranquil aesthetic to it
To sit with your thoughts
Have conversations with your consciousness
To be open with yourself
Whether it be on a long ride home on the bus
A solitary walk on an otherwise busy street
Or enjoying a cup of tea in an empty cafe.
To be unencumbered by the persistent ramblings of others
To be free from the incessant judgments, opinions and assessments of people.
To let your thoughts roam
To unhinge your mind
To recuse yourself from expectations
It's a privilege really
To just, be.
I wrote this while at a seminar my school forced I and my course mates to attend and I was just randomly thinking about the quote "I'll only have you if you're sweeter than my solitude" by Warson Shire and this poem was the product of that.
God made a garden just for me,
And He filled it with pink and purple peonies.
In this garden He said I'll never grow old,
I will thrive in a field of the brightest marigolds.
Where I will play and dance like a kid,
I'll be wild and free just like the native orchids.
In this garden all will be bliss and tranquil,
And my soul will rest amongst dazzling daffodils.
This garden grows above where the stars twinkle,
And is beaming with bees buzzing past periwinkles.
In this garden there will be no serpents who tease,
Only streams decorated with laughing lilies.
In this garden that I'll soon call my home,
There will be pink and white baby cleomes.
Up in the sky beyond where eyes have seen,
There is a garden God made and it's waiting for me.
Quiet in the air
the noise speaks of the world