Darling, the words are now wilting, give birth to the scent of roses. The youth we fail to understand, expectations are increasingly wanted to always be fulfilled. Bringing the flocks, then grow and age. If only things couldn't go away so easily, maybe we've always been there.
Indonesia, 4th September 2021 Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
A soul’s vine is encased with demise. Towering stalks desiccate to bister mummies and Aflush dreams of romance capsize into sour, obsidian soil.
Exhausted leaves crumble when the sun goes down And amber tears of stinging sap drizzle from hollow sepal’s That once hugged tender safad petals in the raw night Like a child clinging to their eham biar yadashte.
Eclipsed roots search for taskeen semblance. Divest thorns flourish on their throne, Devouring golden seeds of promise.
Tishna fruit wither into ember dust, Particles brushing away in the restless wind Until all that lays are flattened memories
Forgotten, forsaken, fanni.
Word Search Machana Ruh (roo): A Wilting Soul Safad: Pure milky white Eham biar yadashte: That feeling of something from our childhood that gave us inanimate affection. Something we, still to this day, can not let go of because it carries all our intimate memories and emotions (Like a teddy bear or blanket). Taskeen (Tash-kean): The warm feeling of home Fanni (Fa-nee): Mortal fragility Tishna: When a person is dehydrated to the point of death
Imagine yourself in the soil... that’s where you start, where you’re born. After you must grow, blossom and bloom, then wilt. This is your life, each day something new. First you must learn to survive before you start.
I wrote this for you. Whether you need a reminder on how to fight, or where you need and want to be in your life...
Raindrops, water plops, let’s go see the ocean. Let’s go skip a stone 14 and 11. Let’s go find a way so we could go to heaven. Raindrops, falling on my face. Raindrops mixing with my tears. Tears falling into the water well. Rose gardens, little girls picking them carefully. But the rain is falling, and the girls are crying and the roses are wilting. The wind is crying and I am crying and the well is crying and the roses are crying. Raindrops, water plops, let’s go see the ocean. Let’s go skip a stone, 14 and 11