He drew a figure eight on my spine, absentmindedly,
and traced the nape of my neck with his fingertip when he said,
“You are beautiful to me.”

But the ellipsis in the silence spoke louder than he did, and the look in his eye was not born because I was lovely;
It was not because he loved me.

A thing too small for love-
But far too large to be lust;

Simple. Ugly.

He looked at me like he was hungry.

So sweetly he critiqued each curve, every line, blurring my edges with the images of every bent perception pulled from the mire of his mind;

and I
could not
satisfy


Pretty innocence diminished in the grip of his vice,
Pressed tight against my body, despised in dark eyes.
I am not the inhuman creatures you contrived in the middle of the night.
I am not the feminine expression of your ******* pride.

What a wicked crime,
to take a woman’s body and leave the woman behind.

I am the highest mountain,
my tips tickling the sky.
I am the flickering candle,
that brings light to your eye.
I am the smallest rain drop,
that makes tarns and rivers grow.
I am the twinkling stars,
that show you which way to go.
I am the current of the tides,
and the moon that makes them change.
I am a gift or favor given,
without expecting any exchange.
You see I am not only human,
I own nothing you can measure;
but I am made of stardust,
the universe's greatest treasure.

He is a link between this and the coming world.
He is
A pure spring from which all thirsty souls may drink.


He is a tree watered by the River of Beauty, bearing
Fruit which the hungry heart craves;
He is a nightingale, soothing the depressed
Spirit with his beautiful melodies;
He is a white cloud appearing over the horizon,
Ascending and growing until it fills the face of the sky.
Then it falls on the flows in the field of Life,
Opening their petals to admit the light.
He is an angel, send by the goddess to
Preach the Deity's gospel;
He is a brilliant lamp, unconquered by darkness
And inextinguishable by the wind. It is filled with
Oil by Istar of Love, and lighted by Apollon of Music.


He is a solitary figure, robed in simplicity and
Kindness; He sits upon the lap of Nature to draw his
Inspiration, and stays up in the silence of the night,
Awaiting the descending of the spirit.


He is a sower who sows the seeds of his heart in the
Prairies of affection, and humanity reaps the
Harvest for her nourishment.


This is the poet -- whom the people ignore in this life,
And who is recognized only when he bids the earthly
World farewell and returns to his arbor in heaven.


This is the poet -- who asks naught of
Humanity but a smile.
This is the poet -- whose spirit ascends and
Fills the firmament with beautiful sayings;
Yet the people deny themselves his radiance.


Until when shall the people remain asleep?
Until when shall they continue to glorify those
Who attain greatness by moments of advantage?
How long shall they ignore those who enable
Them to see the beauty of their spirit,
Symbol of peace and love?
Until when shall human beings honor the dead
And forget the living, who spend their lives
Encircled in misery, and who consume themselves
Like burning candles to illuminate the way
For the ignorant and lead them into the path of light?


Poet, you are the life of this life, and you have
Triumphed over the ages of despite their severity.


Poet, you will one day rule the hearts, and
Therefore, your kingdom has no ending.


Poet, examine your crown of thorns; you will
Find concealed in it a budding wreath of laurel.

Tarzan & Jane were walking through the jungle when Tarzan noticed that Jane had stopped breathing. He immediately performed cardio-pulmonary resuscitation on her and she recovered. She and Tarzan are currently living in a tree with Cheetah, their pet monkey.

My broken heart that saved my life....

I've learnt to love my broken heart with every atom of my being.
It has become my best friend.
It has been with me since my childhood and become my only constant, my only go to, my only place tucked away for only me to feel.

It enabled my quiet side, my deep, unwavering pensive and wounded side.
A side, that without it, would never have lead me along my life path. Collecting tools along the way that now prove so valuable, that I know the best is still to come.

It broke me into a thousand pieces, sliced me up and left scars so deep that I had no choice but to embrace it, snuggle it up and with my soul for guidance, quieten a pain so powerful, that it had manifested in a long term physical disease. But this dis-ease, I have recently learnt to live with and slowly reduce, day by day.

A dis-ease that I feared would define me, wrap itself around me so tightly, that I would splutter and choke and surely die.

This disease has, unbeknown to me, regularly pushed me to my limits.
It has tested my strength and my power until I'm exhausted and heavy with darkness.
A disease that boasts anxiety, addiction, extreme constant pain and popping joints and limbs. Fatigue, dyslexia, dyspraxia, brain fog, and depression, plus an entire resume, full of equally delightful ailments.

But I am a fighter. I am strong. And I can beat it.

Me and my broken heart have teamed up once again.
But this time we are knowledgeable, we have gifts and we are brave beyond my wildest dreams.
We are compassionate, we are loving. We have matured. And we are on our way to helping heal the world. Starting from within.

I have a fire in my heart that will never permit me to give up. It is what keeps me from deep waters, deeper pockets and heavy stones.

There is a white light that fills every inch of my mind and body at any time I need it. I could drown happy in its warmth.
Each morning and evening I soak up this light, and I am still.

I am the luckiest person I know. Because I won’t let life beat me.

Love is the answer!

Look no further than yourself,
be your own lamp
your own refuge.

The rain washed sky found a mirror in his eyes.

Yet for some time as the end neared
he was hearing an echo
from the deep well of nirvana
urging his weary feet toward a home
his aeons ago.

The frail bones feeling the pull
drove his weary feet through rains
to be on that land one last time.

Look no further
for howsoever long is the journey
must come to an end at home.

That night as he lay under the śāl tree
they strained to hear him whisper

All composite things decay,
strive diligently.