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Carina Feb 2018
When you were a young child,
you wore your naive head in the clouds.
The vastness of space was your limit,
there were no social norms to worry about.

Growing up they told you,
you should pretend that you don't care,
so when your hopes would get devastated,
disappointment could give you a spare.

And now you find yourself wondering:
when did I stop following my ambition?
The thing you regret most when you die,
is your passion's creeping omission.

Besides, how can you ever win a game,
that out of fear you did not participate in?
Without your dreams you're a soulless ghost,
like a concaved snake's skin.

If only you're bold enough to walk your own path,
alienated and without an established map.
You will soon realize that your passion's just waiting,
for your courage to close the gap.
I came to realize that in our society less people are brave enough to dream and follow their passions. No one should be judged by his ability to dream of what he/she can be. No one should have to feel ashamed to openly express what you are passionate about. It is courageous and commendable to pursue your goals.
Never forget you can be whatever you want if only you believe in yourself!
(2017)

A word is almost I can't write,
It deliberates the wrath
That recollects my childhood
And departure is got!

Did I lost such beauty
Or this delusive phase,
I truly need my vision, —
To prove hypothesis!



E.
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
No

I’m busy
I love my dream
I’m kind to my shadow
I’m friendly with my hope
I communicate with loneliness
I find millions small reasons to smile

I'm use to with this world
I hear, I understand

Moreover,
I trust the god in me.
Genre: Inspirational
Theme: When, nothing matters, beside hope.
Over thorns I have seen flowers lying tonight
I have seen moths near lamp dying tonight

I can see my vision getting blurred enough
Before me, I can't see you crying tonight

My speech is rambling on a prayer rug
And each wish from heart is flying tonight

Ever seen frozen eyes of a dead beloved?
Then, likewise my eyes are drying tonight

In the Imambara of Kashmir, Mirza! ***!
Ask your wish, why are you shying tonight
When flowers rest over thorns, and moths burn before lamps, and when all this happens tonight.
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
Marathon ideas
Without a pauses
Dry-vision
Seeding the future
Neglecting all rules
Being a Gladiator
Instructed for a win, win
To cast away doubt, “survival of fittest”
White lie
Painting a dream
Irony
Discipline, is to smile less
A vain thought!
Then begins,
Holy search within
Birth, decay and death
All age goes through this
End of suffering
Origin of nirvana
Tranquility,
Let’s control over the senses
With a sympathetic joy
Living without sttachment
In a Cemetery of peace
Inhale, Exhale
For a search within.
Genre: Inspirational
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
Dreamer of the Moon light
With a better vision at night
Calm, smooth and white
Unapologetic beauty
Get together with mellow tunes
Connection with a fragile light

A story no one has read
Looking at a green and red signals
Words can’t express
An image, what seems invisible
Though, It feels so new
Looking at a moon, and sigh
The heart has a way.
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
To this acquaintance,
A rendezvous with midnight.
A gentle Déjà vu and in some sense
I wonder if an unspoken invite
Has played a part or two.
Does the past ever ensue?

Words do become an addiction.
Layer upon layer of repeated satisfaction
Interjected, felt and spewed.
Silken sheet’s confessions are
Best made in the ****.
These words, why are they so bizarre?

Oh let me write it right
Let me dream tonight
Upon this unarmored stage.
Let me free the fight
All through the night
Releasing it from its cage.

With a candlelit smile upon a face
The sheets do gently part.
What fills my heart
Is the gentle art
Of a finger painting slowly traced.
It has not been done by the ones
Lessening love absent of these notions.

What lies beneath must lie beside
As the past becomes renewed.
A gentle kiss a midst a torrents tide
The naked beach subdued.
Wet sand shaping dry demands

Déjà vu be wooed.
Have you ever had that feeling that you had been somewhere before but you knew you hadn’t? Or met someone that you somehow knew yet had never met? Well this piece tries to deal with just such a feeling.
Maria Etre Feb 2018
I like
that you
see me
as your
favorite
color
Dreamer Feb 2018
Broken
And, tired for some time
possibly shutting eyes will do
before strolling another mile

Honey, sing me a children's song
much the same as you
with a touch of bitterness
And a touch of adoration that is true

I'm done with the falsehoods
the sweet ones
that gets pushed
into my throat consistently

They say
salvation is available to be purchased
while the spirit bites the dust
a noiseless demise
I'm heaving each second
while vision
breaks down in my breath
for what isn't right

what's more, what isn't doesn't make a difference
until the point when I quiet my fevered head

Honey, sing me a bedtime song
much the same as you
I know life is short
What's more, trusts are so few
In any case, I'm never excessively drained
to escape away with you
under the blue moon
sing me a children's song
much the same as you
something so genuine
something that relieves
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