It has been a minute
Since I’ve last spilled my words
Every time I write
The lines blurred.

I tried to write about the countdown
Till I see another face again
About hugs, the front-liners, different battles,
The quarantine— when it’ll all end.

But every time I wrote
I was reminded of the truth
2020 hasn’t been all that smooth.

When I would write
A flood of feelings from the past
Told me that moment was
The first and the last.

It was hard to write about the future
Hope disguised as expectations
When reality bled through the sutures
Giving me palpitations— a figment of my imagination.

When I would write about the present
The pain that it came with,
People dying and front-liners crying,
Stupidity preaching the virus is a myth.

Writing poetry
Made me miss people even more,
The outside world
With anxiety kicking down my door.

So I escaped in dances
Music and exercise
Downing six white claws
Playing video games and the ukulele till sunrise.

Writing was my coping mechanism
But I couldn’t stomach this
So here I write, trying it all again
Hopefully it wont hurt as much as it did.

the eternal battle between light and dark has been a source of inspiration for artists & musicians & writers since time immemorial

light and dark allow us  

to treasure the artist's glittering painting
to reflect on the author's lyrical words
to swim through the musician's vast symphony

to explore deep ravines of intense emotion
to float on gossamer dreams
to be wonderfully alive
to be wonderfully human

blue cranes
copper-drizzled lizards
skies of cherry-red
opalite and tangerine

and great forests
that drip honey-jewels

lavender birds
that float on a
sage-dream breeze

summerdaze
wraps us up
in sheets of air  
and pillows of dreams
warm and soft and still...

warmth
from kisses that were as sweet as wine
kisses of myrrh
kisses of honey-velvet and vermilion

as the ivory twilight glows forlorn
i smoke on the residue of love
under the fleeting light
of a chemical sun

warmth
she ran through my hands
like golden drops on thirsty lands
left me in a vast expanse
of sheer
mercurial
cold

you breathe in sweet zephyrs
you speak in rosewood and petal-moss
you sing in cascading ultramarine
you smile in gleaming lavender lust
blue
like the ionian sea
or silken-soul river
and momentarily
a lucid
sapphire touch

You can't ever write forcefully,
until it comes naturally.
It comes with hunger,
when your mind is tired and crossing out
every single thing  because it wants to feed something.
This hunger can turn sentences
into paragraphs,
and that's when you get full,
when your see your pages get full.

- Cadence Aurora

You can't ever write forcefully,
until it comes naturally.
It comes with hunger,
when your mind is tired and crossing out
every single thing  because it wants to feed something.
This hunger can turn sentences
into paragraphs,
and that's when you get full,
when your see your pages get full.

- Cadence Aurora