Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"dimensionless" poems
/// I see you You see me And it is true both we exist You love me I love you And it is true both we exist One day you saw me At least one day I also saw you One day you felt me At least one day I also felt you One day I saw your beauty at least one day you felt that I was in your mind we felt that we loved each other even you can believe it cause still I'm loving you Yet you never see the god and me too, but we both believe in god The believe, the most mystic invention on the planet earth ever yet the gentlemen never can see under the microscope Too many thoughts in our life but we can't exceed the thought of death always we feel a threat of death when we grew older to oldest and we carry it till our death It is true that we see the death and its pain that we have gained when someone's closet moves to the past but we can't lose his existence in our mind and in the existence of our soul I see the death, the mystic beauty rises up to its spiritual height and I say, it is true that is more than the truth, the existence of death Though still we exist on earth yet we can't see any event that will be happened after death but most of us believe in after death there is a life, the unlimited life where we both will meet again either we will exist in heaven or hell Ah! The ultimate existence It is true that we all have a fear of death, the very dear fear, moves us very near to the god the god, dimensionless- space less- existence less- but an ultimate divine existence of god so that we believe in spiritual existence of god- /// @ Musfiq us shaleheen
0
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
existence of believe
/// I see you You see me And it is true both we exist You love me I love you And it is true both we exist One day you saw me At least one day I also saw you One day you felt me At least one day I also felt you One day I saw your beauty at least one day you felt that I was in your mind we felt that we loved each other even you can believe it cause still I'm loving you Yet you never see the god and me too, but we both believe in god The believe, the most mystic invention on the planet earth ever yet the gentlemen never can see under the microscope Too many thoughts in our life but we can't exceed the thought of death always we feel a threat of death when we grew older to oldest and we carry it till our death It is true that we see the death and its pain that we have gained when someone's closet moves to the past but we can't lose his existence in our mind and in the existence of our soul I see the death, the mystic beauty rises up to its spiritual height and I say, it is true that is more than the truth, the existence of death Though still we exist on earth yet we can't see any event that will be happened after death but most of us believe in after death there is a life, the unlimited life where we both will meet again either we will exist in heaven or hell Ah! The ultimate existence It is true that we all have a fear of death, the very dear fear, moves us very near to the god the god, dimensionless- space less- existence less- but an ultimate divine existence of god so that we believe in spiritual existence of god- /// @ Musfiq us shaleheen
Continue reading...
56
Just as how a little stick-man could not perceive the pencil that drew him I could have never seen God and didn't see him when he had molded me from His depths of clay, profound as a rock- that is to say still, solid, silent, cold, old, disquieting... All fancy words for 'not much.' Here's the point: there isn't any, but just as how this little stick-man cannot perceive this pencil that draws him closer and closer to the last panel of his, this, comic or graphic novel: beings of smaller dimensions know nothing of those so much higher, smarter, and more poetic than themselves. Does this have to do with why you disappeared onto an airplane like a bird searching for her freedom...? Am I, in this mess of metaphors, your little stick-man who couldn't get out of his paper sheet and fly with you...? Of course, in existing on a dried white flap, I could not, cannot, fold my own two dimensions of existence into even one crumpled paper plane; so I could not, cannot, follow you through your freeing air and ask you, or beg you, to answer my silly questions... Because I have both length and width, but no depth; no depths of clay. Though I figure the answers to these questions are the same. The truth is that, in this mess of metaphors, neither of us got to pick what we didn't want to be, bird or stick-man. In reality we had only one choice: to hold hands when we could. So we did. And when we did- everything became dimensionless; and Everything made sense because Nothing did. Because the value of the distance between our hands meant that Nothing was our Everything. And from that dense Nothing our Universe was born- Bang. Thus tiny strings of new Everything rippled throughout old Nothing... making Everything matter, almost literally. We then made our stars, our galaxies, our planets; our classrooms, lockers, and lovers: each other. All of this brilliant Creation until we only had one last choice: to hold hands when we could... ...so we did... ... again and again, in the distant dreams of a troubled theorist who chains together pages and birds of poetry, looking to find you, again and again, in the mess of metaphors of our Universe, and I did.                     Almost.
0
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
The Unobservable Dreams of a String Theorist.
Just as how a little stick-man could not perceive the pencil that drew him I could have never seen God and didn't see him when he had molded me from His depths of clay, profound as a rock- that is to say still, solid, silent, cold, old, disquieting... All fancy words for 'not much.' Here's the point: there isn't any, but just as how this little stick-man cannot perceive this pencil that draws him closer and closer to the last panel of his, this, comic or graphic novel: beings of smaller dimensions know nothing of those so much higher, smarter, and more poetic than themselves. Does this have to do with why you disappeared onto an airplane like a bird searching for her freedom...? Am I, in this mess of metaphors, your little stick-man who couldn't get out of his paper sheet and fly with you...? Of course, in existing on a dried white flap, I could not, cannot, fold my own two dimensions of existence into even one crumpled paper plane; so I could not, cannot, follow you through your freeing air and ask you, or beg you, to answer my silly questions... Because I have both length and width, but no depth; no depths of clay. Though I figure the answers to these questions are the same. The truth is that, in this mess of metaphors, neither of us got to pick what we didn't want to be, bird or stick-man. In reality we had only one choice: to hold hands when we could. So we did. And when we did- everything became dimensionless; and Everything made sense because Nothing did. Because the value of the distance between our hands meant that Nothing was our Everything. And from that dense Nothing our Universe was born- Bang. Thus tiny strings of new Everything rippled throughout old Nothing... making Everything matter, almost literally. We then made our stars, our galaxies, our planets; our classrooms, lockers, and lovers: each other. All of this brilliant Creation until we only had one last choice: to hold hands when we could... ...so we did... ... again and again, in the distant dreams of a troubled theorist who chains together pages and birds of poetry, looking to find you, again and again, in the mess of metaphors of our Universe, and I did.                     Almost.
Continue reading...
43
at the sight of you moons are dull grey spotlights flat, dimensionless, and known. which could make us akin if i let the end begin. but i drag it out and twist it tight all strapped in place i dig a tunnel in my soft spot. stretch the truth until it breaks its back. bones of sugar clumped together like lonely hydrogen in a coronal marsh. i thought i could tame it. i see silver and black wind builders and watchmen. your world famous carousel hugs turn to languorous shrugs but they both make me dizzy. a gaze eclipsed for the moment you're less a mind, more a slogan. when his eye meets yours it leaves behind sunspots.
0
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
thinking of mush on the dark side of the sun
Yesterday is a waste. Tomorrow is a haste. Today is all there is, and it's the last of them I am a lost girl, overlooking dimensionless depths The sea sings it's subtle songs, The sky bleeds blues into oranges, reds into purples And the cirrus clouds streak the sky like scars Evening embers tinge the edge of existence Reality retreating into it's final resting place Tainted flower of fragile fights well fought A lost girl, staring at the shining sun of sorrow Knowing full well there is no tomorrow
0
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
Lost Girl
We delve down deep within To decipher dreams and demons; To deduce the true denotation of our decisions. Diminishing greatness Derived from the dead and done. What we must discover is that we are Dimensionless; dissolved. We are individuals as a device. Devised and intertwined.
0
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 10:12 PM UTC
Denseless
mostly nothing works out giving in to change Personality Direction Doubt dimensionless and self providing we end up becoming more greedy simple in our dying. I hope for sake of Love Lust Pleasantries conclusions can be met but we both know hardly anything works out.
0
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 2:40 AM UTC
to be with (i do)
I want to be that thing for you when water reflects all the scenery above it I image cypress to be dimensionless that's what I want
0
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
light
I am that I am and what is and the singular and synthesis therefor dimensionless... .
0
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
I am You are
tried to wipe that smirk off and put you into perspective but its so difficult to see you as you truly are. how could you fool me into thinking of you as so... dimensionless. however you do deceive when you feel so close so powerful yet unattainable the biggest tease ive ever met and yet i'm somehow still compelled
0
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
la luna
one winter I almost did not survive the infinitely consequential moments, all merged indeed into one dimensionless experience where the pain of my entire life (embraced) was all around me, all at once, and forever do you know what I mean? and I could see it all, even behind me and underneath and I was crushed beneath it and yet, *in that endless vast untime a winter?* even then held it upon my palm to look down at from far far above me as though it were a tiny diamond impossibly durable, sharp, with all the shining upon all of the surface of the oceans on the earth and unbearable, I looked down at it, I held it, unbearable but it would never fall from me, and it hurt and cheered me to be beneath it for if God had (known me) long enough in the untime with no breadth to lay this curse the form of grief down upon my head, was it not also the most solemn blessing?        *and he is faithful, and the suffering he lays down upon you, he will not allow to be too much, that you would die while you are alive one time, but again, again, and more after that* that is the winter of indelible clarity a hard glass memory *behind the curtain, the coldness off the window freeze against the pane* still I feel it in my hand heavy (unbearable) and familiar coming down on me again what did I do to turn the eternal gaze toward my face? I disintegrate in excruciation but never turn away
0
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 9:18 PM UTC
more than anything, to be understood
To be born was never my choice, But to end it, that shall be mine, To march this ruined planet was not my choice, But the choice to leave it is finally mine. I have seen much, I have suffered enough, All of it came without a choice, But now, I have a choice. A choice to change, a final exchange, Change so deep, I'll never be seen again, Not on this planet, Not in this universe, Not in any corner of this dimensionless multiverse. I don't need no help no more, And that is my choice, I'll take no advice no more, Because I choose to refuse, And that's my choice; Mine alone. When every option burned away, When every bright path shut close that day, In that pitch black night, A dark flame sprang to life. I chose to follow it, I chose to allow it, Lead my journey off the edge. I came to realise, All along, the dark flame was my choice, The final choice anyone could possess. I choose death over life, I choose to die, And die, and die, again and again, Until this choice too, Eventually no longer remains mine.
0
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
I Have A Choice
N onsensical enigmas form a queue O ntogenies where time is in reverse T wo sides to everything but why so few? H istoric catalogue of multiverse I nfinity that's frozen on the spot N o change of entropy if all were still G reen engines which produce but don't get hot P recise, deterministic style free-will A spatially dimensionless time-zone R eligions with the freedom to evolve A lthough I have to own I have my own- D ogmatic attitudes I'll not devolve O ne hopes someday to hear someone propound X marks the spot where everything is found.
0
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 1:18 AM UTC
No Thing Paradox.
**The rectangular screen I see on my iPhone is the screen upon which multitudes of images appear two dimensions on display pretending as three.. Three dimensions assumed for decades as reality out there perceived from within.. But now in our time dimensions diminish and we discover our true Nature abides in joy when we recognize dimensionless I am..!**
0
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 12:22 PM UTC
Dimensions
You concealed it Were you ashamed? I saw it in every thing about you and for a minute it made me sad You are not dimensionless Though I once thought so You dizzy the stars within me but I think I make yours go still -cj
0
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
unwonted
"Condemn Thee" How do i not condemn thee i must learn The path less traveled, gift discerned. The teacher Is the teaching born experience, natal Bloom of sentientness, ego mes worn Atop the emptiness. A heightened mind? A phrase, no more, the conscious realm dimensionless Mother-Father-Child, breathing universe.
0
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
Condemn Thee