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#yugen
When we focus on what makes us human in the expansive cosmos that is our only home It’s a humbling experience to have the knowledge that this existence is impermanent And that we are not alone in the awareness These beings among us are the only ones we know of that will ever grasp the concept of our place in this universe For that we can at least empathize with one another Realize that love and peace is what we should pursue If for only but a second could we all zoom out and come to conclusion that we don’t really have a clue That it’s okay that we don't have every answer At times it’s necessary to admit defeat We can find solace in the incomplete Meditate on the beauty in the madness Rest our minds amongst the mess The way of this world is not meant for perfection Entropy is inevitable Destruction and decay We can hope and pray But this universe doesn’t speak that language It’s set on its own path Time flows in a linear direction from which we can’t turn back Nevertheless we are apart of a whole We have to keep that in mind and hold on tight Please allow this message to console In the midst of this glimpse in the timeline of human life It’s crucial that we waste no time and choose to live it right
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Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 4:15 AM UTC
One in the Same II
It Was the Wind. I. It was the wind That comes through me 1,000 songs of voices singing penetrating to my bones incomprehensible stories all electricity and fire and I could ride you blind through miles of time never truly knowing the words with which to make you known to me but we I feel though not I see It was the wind That wore a whole in me.   It Was the Wind. II. It was the wind ceaseless howling a never ending cacophony of sad stories and the unreasonable wear of time blowing deep sanding down my memories where-ing away my mind everything gives to the wind find me here If the wind hasn’t yet picked me clean.   It Was the Wind. III. . . . it was the wind.
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Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 6:54 AM UTC
It Was the Wind, three movements
Sometimes I watch the others, So comfortable in their skins Of whatever form they've chosen, Or miraculously been blessed with, And remain a passive observer Of the beauty before me. I view their spirit animal forms, Alongside the incarnations of gods, and goddesses, and other holy beings, Dance across their human flesh. When viewed closely I can see The smallest units of infinity Struggling to expand, sometimes succeeding, Other times dying and quickly vanishing, To be suddenly replaced by elements Of others, or the world around them. They are cloaked in visions My words can't comprehend, Which I have heard some call yugen. Other times I find myself Wanting to join in with the excitement; I flit between the disguises that I have made for myself, in An effort to seamlessly fit in Unzipping one skin as discreetly as possible, and hastily pulling on the next As I rush from group to group, Hoping nobody sees who lies within. I have no concept of my own beauty. Mirrors do nothing to help, being designed to only reflect a physical presence. I suppose that- to a piece of glass- An eyebrow is just an eyebrow, And lips are just lips. If you could see beneath the reflections Of your own selves I had tried to create, I am afraid of what you might see The bitterness that lies beneath. My multiple façades sometimes breaks free, And slowly breaks whoever is before me, Causing mouths to form wide O's of horror, Or else silences them completely. This skin I inhabit is not my home- I appreciate it's gloriousness and accept, As I do in others, the meanest emotions it conceals, And treat it as I would any other. I Wish it no harm, and would be loath To abandon it on some distant kerb Like an unloved pet. My Celtic forefathers had a word to describe this; "Hiraeth"- a longing for a home that never was, Or a place one can only recall in distant Memories; unrecountable to those who Never knew of its existence to begin with. Maybe the skins I wear are part Of my journey home; pupating like A moth who longs to search for the light, Yet lacking the wings to do so. Perhaps they are only walls of my Own devising, covering the window To my own soul, that writhes inside Like some contorted navel. All I know is that the parts of you I have stolen, or borrowed, or bought, Or acquired through other means Are the closest to home I have ever been, Enabling me, in those brief moments, To view the homes you keep within yourselves, Until you reach out and touch me, Causing me to run away, tail between legs, Before my true self can be seen.
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May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
Hiraeth
Sometimes I watch the others, So comfortable in their skins Of whatever form they've chosen, Or miraculously been blessed with, And remain a passive observer Of the beauty before me. I view their spirit animal forms, Alongside the incarnations of gods, and goddesses, and other holy beings, Dance across their human flesh. When viewed closely I can see The smallest units of infinity Struggling to expand, sometimes succeeding, Other times dying and quickly vanishing, To be suddenly replaced by elements Of others, or the world around them. They are cloaked in visions My words can't comprehend, Which I have heard some call yugen. Other times I find myself Wanting to join in with the excitement; I flit between the disguises that I have made for myself, in An effort to seamlessly fit in Unzipping one skin as discreetly as possible, and hastily pulling on the next As I rush from group to group, Hoping nobody sees who lies within. I have no concept of my own beauty. Mirrors do nothing to help, being designed to only reflect a physical presence. I suppose that- to a piece of glass- An eyebrow is just an eyebrow, And lips are just lips. If you could see beneath the reflections Of your own selves I had tried to create, I am afraid of what you might see The bitterness that lies beneath. My multiple façades sometimes breaks free, And slowly breaks whoever is before me, Causing mouths to form wide O's of horror, Or else silences them completely. This skin I inhabit is not my home- I appreciate it's gloriousness and accept, As I do in others, the meanest emotions it conceals, And treat it as I would any other. I Wish it no harm, and would be loath To abandon it on some distant kerb Like an unloved pet. My Celtic forefathers had a word to describe this; "Hiraeth"- a longing for a home that never was, Or a place one can only recall in distant Memories; unrecountable to those who Never knew of its existence to begin with. Maybe the skins I wear are part Of my journey home; pupating like A moth who longs to search for the light, Yet lacking the wings to do so. Perhaps they are only walls of my Own devising, covering the window To my own soul, that writhes inside Like some contorted navel. All I know is that the parts of you I have stolen, or borrowed, or bought, Or acquired through other means Are the closest to home I have ever been, Enabling me, in those brief moments, To view the homes you keep within yourselves, Until you reach out and touch me, Causing me to run away, tail between legs, Before my true self can be seen.
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71
Yugen pick your friends Yugen try to please the world Yugen never fail Yugen be who you wanna be Yugen contradict Yugen be happy Yugen steal my words Yugen, you are On your own
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 7:31 PM UTC
Untitled
For what part of the universe is your mother? What half of anything did you discover? For in all relativity: balanced from the center How amazing to be around you, alone is us together Your angle, loved in my reflection Our friendship, unclear satisfaction As two fishing lines cross in action Communicable ******* communicable companion This is no love story There is one and just another, sincerely How all things are portrayed in harmony Like the north star, ignorant of its little family
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Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 6:52 AM UTC
Together Alone Excerpt (All i could write before it left)
the things I wanna see the things I wanna be the fragrance and what seems to appear when my mind creates what isn't there just look away and feel no despair i'll never be anything to "you" no that I know you, I actually have no clue and my mind will rot away, discovering more to know less what I dine for is never sane at least for you, your at one point quenched but for me, the drive is from getting lost I always thirst for more out of ignorance once I bore a cup of sand I once held the gratitude I had was hidden from my conscience but one day I stumbled upon a beach the sand in my hand no longer the same for me I tried dropping the sand into its place I observed a rejection of tension I switched what was in my cup I couldn't bear no more I need a sand box I need more even if I owned one though it could only be no more to me this pattern of reality it crinkles me as I can't live without it
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
sanity meltdown part 1
At first I thought my insanity left But instead my sanity came;
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Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
It stayed