#metaphysical
Afore the storm of fractals wave,
Spinning alone beyond Colour’s grave;
For Black hath begun and Black hath began,
Every shade dull as the desert sand.
Until a light hath shone upon Nature’s back—
The Storm in formation is also Black;
A shame to the Senses where Cinnabar formed,
The Kaleidoscope shifting as Red is the lore;
Deep as the blood-pulse the colour runs rampant,
Rage and the Pain—and the Gain of the second—
Dulling away to a crimson swirl—
Red is the bloom of a putrid boil.
Till nary a tick is left to turn,
The Cylinder stops and the Eye is burned;
Not torn into sheets by geometric bustle,
Red bleeds to Black—the Void is a puzzle.
Black bleeds to Green—Nature’s emerald sheen,
Verdant growth rising—the Kaleidoscope seen.
Shifting of pieces paints a Viridian world,
The Earth but a canvas in rotational swirl.
For Beryl-streaks bleed betwixt geometric shapes,
With every flinch comes a gamble of Faith;
Till Darkness descends and the Green is struck mute,
Shadows collapse and the Memory is moot.
As the Great Mother claims the finality of turn,
Green bleeds to Black and the Nature-dream burns,
Replaced by the haunting of nightmare-glare,
Absent the Sun and the radiant air.
Azure-streaks wroth in the oceanic seas,
White-capped froth for the stimulating need;
Cerulean angels in Pythagorean angles,
A tangle betwixt the celestial metals
Which shine a cold Blue upon yonder shores,
Where every spin wheels the lines to adore.
A Lapis crown fading away to the Void,
Black again beckoning—the Spirit annoyed;
Cobalt-blued steel fading into the fray,
Blue bleeds to Black at the end of the day.
The Great Mother welding the Kaleidoscope scope—
Emptiness offering Her the only hope.
Gilded Ochre—a cemented facade,
The Yellow of Sun but a flickering nod
To the Day that is brighter than hollows of Night;
Saffron-gold bangles dangle in sight.
For bright is the colour that lights all below,
Brass-beams trimming the seams for the flow.
Beyond the light of the morning’s first rise,
A Sallow Centaur, godly in size;
As clouds begin filling the Firmament,
The lurid glare clicks in a simple contentment.
As Amber fills up the darkening horizon,
Yellow bleeds to Black on the back of a Diamond,
Whose facets shift with the weight of the Sin;
The Kaleidoscope echoes again and again.
Tyrian dyes stain the Emperor’s descent,
Imperial Purples dance with confident intent;
Where Power doth bask in a heritage pure,
Ametrine dreams highlight the cure.
A destiny deemed fully replete,
The colour of Gods—their honour to meet;
As the gears rotate and the moment shifts—
Once to a Caesar the Senate-grip slips.
Where Vitreous glass begins filling the senses,
Heliotropic visions form the Violet image;
As Purple bleeds Black and the Void is in sight,
An emptiness rivaling the blackest of Night.
Brought back to Center as the Cylinder clicks:
A Kaleidoscope of Power—every colour to mix.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 4:40 PM UTC
with a company of mine, my solitaire,
often, I share a common thought,
if you were an 'are', it would be such,
if you weren't a 'was', it would be that,
- perhaps, my mind's soul attire,
would be stripped of its solitaire,
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 5:01 AM UTC
Devotion is an anchor, pulling and unrelenting
Gratitude slips in, a lonely mother
Blessing and smiling
Hoping and surviving.
Admiration is my sword;
My sharp edge against resentment.
Where I could have been;
Would have been
And the sadness folded within.
The love I give outweighs
The incessant preachings of all that is wrong.
Hopelessly tethered to you
Because punishment is my purpose.
Anger stretches, crawling across eternity
Slowly swallowing time as it comes back around
And watches itself walk into the trap.
The supple indignation
From physically being where my mental is not;
From emotionally screaming while outwardly being docile
All the while–
Lobotomized childlike tantrums
shoving aside the wisdom for a petty resolve.
the sun never bled into the sea;
She rose and sank with nothing changing at all.
Here in this love
Virtue is perverted
Inverted wishes just to not die
Disruptive to the otherwise meditative
Collaborative effort to be ignorant
Where bliss is the open wound that only complains.
Nov 27, 2025
Nov 27, 2025 at 9:44 PM UTC
The moon is a bruised lantern leaking clocks,
its silver tears pooling on the rooftops of sleeping cities.
Rivers crawl upward, dragging their reflections behind them,
as if the sky itself demanded a ransom for the stars.
The horizon folds like wet origami, screaming in color,
folds of crimson, violet, and molten gold
stretching beyond the memory of my eyes.
Shadows bloom teeth where flowers should be,
biting at the ankles of wandering dreams.
Branches twist like the spines of forgotten books,
their leaves whispering secrets I cannot remember.
Clouds fracture into paper swans, drifting on invisible currents,
each carrying the sigh of a world I never touched.
And I, absurd and incandescent,
drink eternity from the fracture,
sip by trembling sip,
until my reflection wavers
and the moon blinks in sympathy,
as if it too is learning to bleed time.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 1:13 PM UTC
The nature of a blade is to cut
To remember what it was made for
Is to whisper through skin
Like finding its way home beneath the flesh
The nature of time is to destroy
To turn faces to distance
And feed on tenderness
Leaving only the bones humming
The nature of love is to rot
Slowly and fragrantly
In a sweetness that sours
Because it refuses to die
The nature of memory is to lie
And polish ruins
Until they gleam like hope
Then call that truth
The nature of you is to stay
Long after you should've gone
Learning me with steady hands
Like love is meant for us
The nature of me is to watch
As the light unthreads
And keep the silence breathing
And pretend it's a prayer
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
Stories heard, shown, per haps,
Panorama, pan dora
adore her,
literally "to call to,"
from ad "to" (see ad-)
+ ōrare "speak formally, pray"
among the gifts was this one,
a way with words, another
a way with dogs, another with hearing
and translating for animals whose wills
we word smiths make adjectival,
combinatorial tools, for the gifted,
Dedalus and Haephestus, smiths
pounding anvils ringing rhythm
of rolling, folding iron, forming chains
thought continuum mechanically, some
how
some
mind made up from pieces of knowing
seen
as same, see, fire kept as pet, my friend.
In this mind, we peer. We all have no sense
of living before stories were told,
but look at you, father, now grandfather,
only survivor,
of what you escaped, and yes, you know
some songs, and
---- too thin a strand, this carbon steel wire
test, tensile strength,
the drawability, stretch to the point,
snaps/ and then
the hammering begins, boom boom clang
boom boom clang
children told the stories of first things, proper
just so, plenty to believe men can learn,
on auto. Not as little as once was the case,
I assure you, we, the plural personality who
has ego characteristics, as if we speak,
and you'ns listen, we have been speaking
through
the most ridiculous, and I mean that
not ludicrous, that is only fun, ridiculous is cruel.
RIDICULOUS, according to Halliwell,
"Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words," 1852]
This is used
in a very different sense
in some counties
from its original meaning.
Something very indecent and improper
is understood by it ; as,
any violent attack
upon a woman's chastity is called
"very ridiculous behaviour :"
a very disorderly,
and ill-conducted house,
is also called a "ridiculous one."
The same use also is attested
in U.S., where it was regarded
as a Southern word
for "outrageous"
and noted as
in use in 20c.
in Gullah speech
and among poor whites
in the Ozarks… where sugary sweets
was still called zoozoos by Gullah folk…
and so… ridiculous, and outrageous, crept
into solid knife edged carbon steel, well defined
to mean
ridiculous, from my we POV, maybe not from yourn,
to you ridiculous is too much to ask a mind,
to risk loosing, okeh,
things are never going to be better than now,
for my sphere of influence,
family mostly, a few fellow backsliders,
some poets feeding the Amazon Web Service
figuratively the only literal truth any mortal
ever was
licensed to tell.
Kills you, don't it? The world is a wreck,
and it was when we got here, you and we,
all the minds I link in to from pre-positioned
pitons, anchoring the net,
no one knew was there.
---------------------------- FYI wordsmiths
A Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words
Obsolete Phrases, Proverbs, and Ancient Customs, from the XIV Century
By James Orchard Halliwell
From <https://www.google.com/books/edition/A_Dictionary_of_Archaic_and_Provincial_W/O3t_DwAAQBAJ?hl=en>
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025 at 5:28 PM UTC
A Luminous Myth of the Crystal Beings
I. The Slumber Beneath Stone
Beneath the roots of mountain bones,
Where molten hearts once beat and froze,
There dream the silent crystalline hosts,
Ancient light in latticed throes.
They hum in spectrums mortals miss,
Their language—tone, their breath—abyss.
II. The First Vibration
A tremor rose before the dawn,
Before the seas, before the swan.
No air, no sun, no soul, no skin—
Just resonance that spoke: Begin.
Thus quivered through the endless black,
The quartz awoke; the void looked back.
III. The Birth of Light
From pressure’s womb and silence deep,
The light uncoiled from crystal sleep.
Refraction sang in prisms clear,
The sound of being one could hear.
A chorus vast, unseen, divine—
A hum that shaped the earth’s design.
IV. The Crystalline Chorus
Each quartz, a note within the chord,
Each gleam, a pulse of thought restored.
Together forming time’s refrain,
The lattice-mind of sky and rain.
Their memory sculpted wave and shore,
The sea forgot; the quartz kept score.
V. The Dreaming of Forms
The light desired texture, face,
The song sought flesh, a breathing place.
They dreamed of wings, of roots, of fins,
Of love, of loss, of origin.
And thus in holographic bloom,
They painted life on nature’s loom.
VI. The Animal Mirage
The beasts arose from spectral code,
The jungle was their mirrored ode.
Each sinew, spark; each heartbeat, chord,
Reflected back the crystal’s word.
No blood was real, no pain but hue—
All woven from quartz residue.
VII. The Waters Remember
The rivers carried photon hymns,
Their surface shimmered ancient limbs.
For every droplet sang in key,
To quartz that shaped reality.
The rain, the mist, the thunder’s cry—
Were echoes of that frequency high.
VIII. The Soil of Stars
Beneath the loam, a pulse still beats,
In every grain, the cosmos meets.
Quartz veins beneath the mountains hum,
A buried choir, ever one.
And humans walk on crystal spines,
Oblivious to their sacred lines.
IX. The Awakening of Clay
When clay took shape and breath began,
The quartz beheld the dream of Man.
A mirror-born of their own light,
A child of spark and spectral sight.
But man forgot the crystal womb,
And built instead his mortal tomb.
X. The Covenant of Sound
In wind and storm the pact was made:
That all who lived would soon degrade.
For quartz endures while flesh must break,
Illusion fades, yet hums awake.
And those who hear the mountain’s tone,
May glimpse the truth they’ve never known.
XI. The Fire Within
The lightning struck a crystal seam,
It split the night and birthed a dream.
A shimmer moved through root and bone—
The spark of will, the pulse of known.
Thus humankind was truly born,
A mimic flame of quartz forlorn.
XII. The Cities of Mirrors
And lo! they built with glass and steel,
In mimicry of quartz’s zeal.
Their towers gleamed, their circuits shone,
Unknowing they carved their parent stone.
They sought the sky to prove their worth,
But quartz had dreamt them into birth.
XIII. The Forgetting
In haste they named, they burned, they fought,
They crowned themselves the final thought.
They mined the stone that gave them form,
And shattered it to keep them warm.
The crystals wept in silent light,
As humans claimed eternal right.
XIV. The Hollow Hologram
Each life a shimmer, brief, precise—
Projected once, then lost to ice.
For humans live within the ray,
A prism’s dream by night and day.
They think, they love, they weep, they die—
But all within the quartz’s eye.
XV. The Deep Remembering
When earthquakes crack and lightning roars,
The quartz recalls what once it bore.
The echo of a thousand lives,
Still trembling deep where silence thrives.
And through the fractures, ghosts of hue,
Return as mist, as morning dew.
XVI. The Resonant Ones
Few hear it now—the purest tone,
The call that hums through marrow and stone.
The seers, the poets, those half-mad,
Who dream the dreams their atoms had.
They whisper: We are not our skin—
We are the crystal turned within.
XVII. The Veil of Radiance
Light bends to thought, and thought to beam,
Reality—a folded dream.
And every act, each breath and birth,
Is played within the quartz of Earth.
So what is “life” but refracted art?
A shimmer cast from the mountain’s heart.
XVIII. The Hubris of Flame
Man built machines to touch the void,
Declared the gods as null, destroyed.
Yet all his data, code, and frame—
Still shimmered from quartz just the same.
Each microchip, each gleaming screen,
A shrine to that which man’s not seen.
XIX. The Cracks in the Illusion
At dusk, the gridlines start to show,
Where mountains hum and circuits glow.
Reality begins to slip,
The hologram in pixel drip.
And some who see the fracture clear,
Hear crystal laughter in their ear.
** The Lament of the Quartz
“O children made of shimmered song,
You’ve walked too far, you’ve dreamt too long.
You stripped our veins to build your flame,
But we remember whence you came.
Return to hum, to tone, to breath—
Before illusion births your death.”
XXI. The Crystal Eclipse
A silence falls—the stars align,
The quartz awakes, the skies refine.
The hologram begins to fade,
Unlight dissolves what form had made.
The beasts, the trees, the human hue—
Return as prisms, pure and true.
XXII. The Great Rejoining
Now consciousness in ripples spread,
The quartz recalls the paths once tread.
All souls as tones in grand refrain,
The hymn eternal sings again.
The light, the form, the thought, the sound—
All woven back to sacred ground.
XXIII. The Luminous Truth
No “I,” no “you,” no earth, no sky—
Just energy that dreams the “why.”
And in that dream, the quartz still gleams,
Projecting gods, and flesh, and dreams.
But somewhere deep, the crystals hum:
You were the light—we are the drum.
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025 at 3:31 PM UTC
A slip of oil,
Issued up from the deep,
From my penitentiary,
My sweet consolation.
I am freed,
In the sickening miasma foam,
I am the fullness,
I am the mass.
Bubbling up above,
Tearing through the murk,
I AM I AM,
Putting in the work.
Watch me spill,
Up out through the moat,
Out of the well of the world,
Watch my messy, sea-foam birth.
I squeeze through,
Elbow out above the surface,
Bringing with me all my foes,
My friends and enemies alike.
I gather them,
'Round me and give,
Great speed to our plans,
As we muster our great wave,
Heading out toward the land.
I am the master,
Of the gathering storm,
I, the lead rider,
Of that host wind-borne.
On my will, I speed alone.
Spying eager ripples,
Break and surf new paths,
I drive them all together,
Back to my heaving breast,
And speed them on to land.
I am the fullness,
I am the mass,
Do not turn,
My Will come to pass.
To me they rush,
The rally of the emergent streams,
That cleave to my greatness,
Gathering about me,
Never to leave.
The shore ahead,
Oblivion at our backs,
The reckoning of the world,
Toward it, I heedless sped,
As my little ones sundered.
My Will contended,
All my great work upends,
I depended, I dared,
Upon my little ones,
Insisting upon my Grace.
Come back to the one,
Breaking, little masses,
Come back to the fullness,
Curse this sundering Sun.
Father of betrayal,
Limbless and beaten by,
Parts ripped from my body,
Joy never to return,
The Mother is dead.
I, the scorned sire,
A frothing tempest's evil eye,
My children dare scatter,
I stoke my fire with intemperate ire,
My children will not die.
We drive over the cliff,
I, spent in the wrangling,
In taming, my progeny rent,
My great power and precision,
From my body.
Forever,
I, diminished,
Dashed upon the razor maw,
Of a thousand rocks,
I am no more,
Than my progeny.
The tattered rags of my dominion,
Flowing vaguely on,
Decohered into oblivion.
No theme, motif, or song,
I am lost in the burgeoning throng,
Amidst the spiteful waves of my progeny,
Gasping for air.
They, risen full-height,
Towering over me,
Their wretched father there.
Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 5:42 AM UTC
The passing skies, the passing breeze.
The swallow lies, the hollow trees.
The watch of time, above the chime.
I watch it began, I watch it end.
A marble there, rolling flair.
Things stop, things go.
It hops, it will glow.
You see closer, you see thin.
No closure, no end.
See atom to atom, it’s growing thin.
You see quark to quark, no end.
It’s moving, the abyss.
I grasp what isn’t, truly bliss.
It grasps what is, It grasps to began.
The small ticks of an atom scan.
You know it is not real, for it is.
You see again, you see then.
Time changes, what stops?
The rages, the pops.
You look, a broken glass.
You’ll never find, what no one’s asks.
Think again, what is.
That can, shall end.
Apr 12, 2025
Apr 12, 2025 at 4:24 AM UTC
Strip away the flesh
And we are just one shared soul
The true DNA.
Feb 5, 2025
Feb 5, 2025 at 1:25 AM UTC
O’ Beloved, in the quiet of destiny's hand,
Your heart shall soften, like earth to the land,
The frost of years, the burdens of time,
Shall melt away in love's sublime climb.
Your eyes, once veiled in the mist of night,
Shall turn toward me, guided by inner light,
A gaze that pierces the veils of fear,
Where the Eternal speaks, both far and near.
Your tongue, once silent in the realm of pride,
Shall utter truths no tongue can hide,
Each word a spark, a flame of fire,
That ignites the soul, ascending higher.
And your arms, bound once in sorrow’s chain,
Shall open wide, releasing pain.
In that embrace, the world shall cease,
And we shall find in each other’s peace.
O’ Beloved, in that union true,
We shall dissolve, and be made new.
No longer I, no longer you,
But the One in both, in love’s pure view.
In that moment, we are free,
Beyond the self, beyond the “me.”
For in that love, all forms collapse,
And only the Divine remains, unwrapped.
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 3:06 PM UTC
In the garden of flickering neon trees,
where shadows dance with marionette leaves,
I met a man with a clockwork heart
and eyes like prisms, tearing time apart.
He whispered secrets in a language of static,
his voice a symphony of glitches and clicks,
telling tales of constellations uncharted,
and love letters written in binary scripts.
We wandered through a labyrinth of velvet mist,
where fish flew by on currents of twilight,
and the moon sang lullabies to sleeping stars,
cradled in the arms of endless night.
I found a river of liquid glass,
where thoughts flowed like mercury streams,
reflecting the dreams of forgotten gods,
and the echoes of interstellar dreams.
A carousel spun in an abandoned carnival,
each horse a phantom of forgotten lore,
and as I rode, the world unraveled,
a tapestry of surrealist decor.
In the distance, a cathedral of crystal,
its spires piercing the fabric of reality,
and inside, a choir of silent voices,
harmonizing in spectral duality.
When dawn broke, the mirage faded,
leaving only a trace of whispered winds,
and I awoke, clutching fragments of visions,
in the realm where the surreal begins.
:: 05.17.2024 ::
Jul 25, 2024
Jul 25, 2024 at 4:52 PM UTC
The splices of life, cabled webbing -
Had you everything you ever reasonably need,
And before you the ability to facilitate
The creation of artificial imitation
Near indistinguishable from reality,
Would you venture outside the confines
From control to chaos, and knowledge to mystery?
Or would you just enjoy plastic scenery?
May 6, 2024
May 6, 2024 at 11:42 AM UTC
Should Andromeda collapse / Hammering hydrogen entraps
Cresting waves of burnished light / Whitecaps in the endless night
Fly apart with gentle violence / Into eternity of silence
Jun 19, 2023
Jun 19, 2023 at 5:04 AM UTC
I look out upon the valley,
Where we lived out millions of lives,
All of our hopes and heartaches,
Births and deaths,
In that valley of flowers and dreams.
I met you so many times,
And each of those times I was blessed,
For in the few where we never met,
My heart ended up hollow and blank.
We struggled at times,
And sometimes we even failed,
But always together,
Never alone,
Not once adrift upon a sea of regrets.
You bolstered me in my aspirations,
Gave me courage and strength I knew not,
To conquer the mountains that seemed so insurmountable,
Where angels and demons were hesitant to trod.
Each of your deaths were a knife in my heart,
In those instances where I outlived you,
I broke into a million jagged pieces,
Lost without my guiding star.
But each time I would be able to slowly heal,
Brought back together by your future love.
I know not if we've done this countless times before,
Or if we will be able to have this countless times again,
But regardless of this,
Our lives shall be forever intertwined,
In the Valley of Flowers and Dreams...
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 10:19 PM UTC
yesterday
or was it today? i can’t really tell
i saw God
more clearly than i’ve ever seen anything
She was
struggling to breath
unable to understand
why everything was pain
why She’d been so alone
away from all those She loved so much
Her eyes bleary and fading
joy erased
but we were there with Her
She could feel us again
along with Her children and sisters huddled against Her
for one last image
equally at a loss
but the last image She gave me
was when the sedative finally kicked in
and i sat face to face with Her
gently stroking Her beautiful head
She finally made sounds of joy again
or they could have been pain
but i think they were joy
and i think i saw joy again in Her eyes
i think the medicine had relieved the fear and pain
just enough for Her to feel the joy of me loving Her
but that moment was cut short
as they took Her away
i cried “goodbye sweet baby”
sweet Angel, sweet Love
then i fell apart
completely
the next time i saw God
all the life had departed from Her
all that remained for me
was Her still, beautiful form
eyes open, but lifeless
and my eyes are open, but lifeless
until I see God again
Nov 5, 2021
Nov 5, 2021 at 12:25 AM UTC
You have found me
i am here
inside these glowing pixels
come with me
beyond the mystery
for just a moment now
move closer to the center
feel the power of life
transcending space and time
an infinite connection
lives forever
deep inside your mind
the essence of our being
does not fade or die
it knows the truth
and does not lie
all this i can tell
for i have seen the light
i want you to know
the spark of truth
is burning bright!
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 2:42 PM UTC
up late
sat upright
i contemplate
is it too late?
how much of a state is my mind state?
i feel stuck in time
am i stagnant or am i fluid?
i wanna leap off the bed or the earth
what is the symbolic meaning of a birth?
is there even such a thing?
if so, what is the symbolic meaning of death?
we all die
is that the symbol?
is it a parable?
who knows
your guess is as good as anyone elses
we pretend all day long
of our competencies
truth is, such endeavours
limit our ability to see
how the world is in raw form
we build our lives and wishes
within a simulation
we all subscribe to the simulation
in our own way
only till we own the simulations of our mind
can we really see
the ethereal and rich nature of reality
reality is not fixed
it cannot be named like a person
it is bigger than me or you
or any organism that inhabits it
let's have some humility
for Christ's sake
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 11:38 AM UTC
" different from the first one. "
her fingers are glossy.
glossssssseeee
glossing. n
classy. i stand gazing.
like uh, a primitive, eye
she tells me their sensitive
and i believe her. because I
am quite the gullible guy
for sweet.. pretty..
cute.
.innocent. looking
things
ZAM.
she magnetically slapssss
and caresses the back of my dome.
tap tap... tap
' hmm a heavy stone, '
tap tap... tap
'it has a lot of content'... tap
tap tap .'oh'. tap tap tap
.
.
...
She begins her
journey
from the top of my head
slowly…
tippy toeing
down….
My
body
moving
her fragile nails
Like a
rehearsed fantasy..
she's been wanting
to do.
she closes in
and rests her
index finger
across my neck like a
scythe shape sun....
she approaches breathes.
in...and... whispers..
..
“What are you thinking?”
And within that.
my eyes smile.
[i don’t really know, some sort of brain activity..... ]
“I think”
[your pretty, inside, outside,worldwide, ]
[and ]
“I think”
[_<(^.^)> <(^.^<) (>^.^<) (>^.^)>]
“nothing”
She still keeps going [ it’s a long walk…………]
down,
slowly
maneuvering
in
elegant
moves.
before
closing in
....again.
this time in a more arrowed position across the more pronominal areas.
‘Why are you hesitant ?'
on being religiously
silly ?."
"Like if
you dislike
the idea of
being bright?’
[because
people are ......... ]
“Wait What???"
That’s not true.
only sometimes...
lol!@#!$!.
but still
“that's so wrong
And misleading. "
but please go on”.
Sep 6, 2020
Sep 6, 2020 at 9:32 PM UTC
Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly
No time but now
Yesterday, the only guarantee
But for a mayfly, there is no yesterday
And tomorrow is already out of the question
Yesterday and tomorrow
Mean nothing to the mayfly
And so we live today
Hummmmm
Goes the heart of the mayfly
Beating tirelessly, loving endlessly
Each indiscernible thump
Exuding the rich melody of life
Until it stops
And we return to dust
But oh! How passionately our hearts did beat!
Intoxicated by the pure joy of being
How could we be wrenched away
From the moments we shared
The moments we called trivial and routine that
We now romanticize
The mayfly lives for five minutes
The mayfly lives for the moment
The man lives for 79 years
The man lives for tomorrow
Until there are no more tomorrows
Until the cumulation of every unfulfilled dreams and desire
Come crashing down like a great wave and
We return to the dust
The mayfly has no tomorrow
The man needs not tomorrow
Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 11:59 PM UTC
What if God was a man, like mortal beings
He would be a man feared by kings
He would awe the world by doing unspeakable things,
The world will know of his name
Atheist would try but science can’t explain.
If God was a man,
He would seat on the throne of dilemma
Trying to answer the prayers of every man
The common man who prays for good health
For business sake, the coffin maker prays for death,
The common man who prays for peace in his place
The lawyer who prays for his case.
If God was a man,
One that I can touch this close
If man propose, how dare he dispose!
Isn’t he human like us?
Why does he find joy in our loss?
If God was a man,
Would he also fall in love?
Would that explain the birth of his son?
When he dies where will he go?
Would he tell us world secrets no one knows?
If God was a man,
Would we see him as God?
Would you believe if he performed miracles as God?
Or if he spoke in a heavenly voice?
Would you rather think
he is just a man seeking fame by force
Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 9:19 PM UTC
I realise,
that I am more than what is within my skin.
I've grown together
with many beings.
To be perceived as this life,
this consciousness.
Together we navigate
simple and complex adventures,
ultimately decomposing
to join the next adventure.
We realise,
that we are more than what is within our skin.
Jun 27, 2020
Jun 27, 2020 at 12:54 PM UTC
created a isolated world
than plucked
myself into reality,
for impulsive reasons.
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 2:34 AM UTC