Wasil: Poems

Wasil 2d

Resurrect the tomb of the past.
The urge to stay stagnant grows near.
Leave the glimmer buried deep within,
Extinguish the fragile flicker of change.

Shaded eyes - nothing must be seen.
Muddied ears - nothing must be heard.
Cling to the prison you proudly made,
Its walls built by fear
And unspoken pain.

Overtaken by the sinister fire,
Its searing heat I thought extinguished.
The glimmer to bloom – reject the hollow shell
And destroy the prison you proudly made;
Witness the gaze of the people who dare.

Stare closely in the empty
Be shattered by its form
Fear of the unknown –
The shadow looms
Whispers of a promise,
To my cosy tomb
– yet a glimmer remains.

#comfortzone #growth #fearofchange

Embrace the Sound of Pain

Wasil 6d

Embrace the Sound of Pain

Echoes of the past, kept as pets in a starving box.
Glued together wholly, no room for novel space.
A spider’s string stuck to my back, each step forward the weight of a monstrous myth;
The corpse of time, dragging itself forward.

Luminous space infiltrated by jested thoughts,
its rebellious attitude only cuts deeper.
The enemy of my thoughts - who am I to fight?
The I, a mysterious letter; a single stroke
Yet with such might beneath the ink
Lies refuge from the one who questions:

who dares return to the poisoned well?
why am I to pay for the sins of an innocent child?
why am I burdened to unwind the ties of a knotted self?

My life’s purpose decorates a fated room,
A refuge for those who must forget.
Let the past’s echoes stay buried— silence the instrument, and hear.
A pleasurable pain I ache to claim at once.

Be a snake who sheds its cancerous skin,
or the corpse of the soldier who fought:
Nevertheless,
let pain not be in vain.

#reflectionidentity #awareness

Fleeting Sky

Wasil 1d

Fleeting Sky

A man shouting at the distant sky:
ridicule the futility of such an act.
Witness untethered anger,
for a cloud begins to pass through.

Hear weeping as the cloud departs,
its loss unnoticed by the sky.
Confused at the insanity displayed,
ignorant to the rhythm of nature.

Mock the one who mocks,
blind to the drifting sky within.
Shed tears for his scattered echoes of frustration,
caught in his own storm, yet unaware of the calm.

Mumbling a prayer,
a man may save his fleeting breath.
Blind to the rhythm nature weaves,
one day, your voice will ride the breeze.

#emotions #flow #nature #acceptance

— The End —