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Yitkbel Dec 2019
Introduction:
The Young Poet’s Dreams:

I often dream of the ocean
Dream of the sea
I've been waking up to a longing
Longing for the land
The land of my birth
South of the Clouds
North of the sea
Not bordering either
But close and very near
To the heavens and the world

Overlooked by progress
But not by history
Nature, and life
I was ungrateful of having fallen behind
Though I was still deeply moved
By the primitive nature and land
Still fully alive,
Green as the winding rivers
Firm as its sheltering boulders
This must be a proximity to
The truth I seek
The timelessness I seek


Chorus of Epiphany:


Yes,
There must be Truth
In the unchanged and unchanging
Evergreen, and restlessly flowing
Rituals and rites kept alive
Thousands of years despite
Time, and the forsaken everything

Were the Truth and the eternal
Timeless, and the Faraway
Always so close
To home?


The Eternalist Dream:


Is this the source and origin of
My nightly and whimsical nautical dreams
The fact that I was born near the land
Of ancient and now lost shallow seas

Am I called by the truth, unchanged
In giant columns of limestone
Still marked by waves from near-eon ago
Though we can no longer see them
In Eternalism, the ocean still wavers
As truly as my footprints curved by
The flow of all objects of time and space
As truly as the countless unseeable me
Navigating through life and existence
Bearing all that is forever timeless
Unacknowledged for it is unseen
Through each step taken and each
Subtle yet unmistakable movement
Create a new and continuous ‘to be’
With all of me floating along the unseen

Yet
Fully alive and eternal shallow sea


Chorus of Epiphany:


Yes,
There must be Truth
In the unchanged and unchanging
Evergreen, and restlessly flowing
Rituals and rites kept alive
Thousands of years despite
Time, and the forsaken everything

Were the Truth and the eternal
Timeless, and the Faraway
Always so close
To home?


The Mythical Dream:


It lives on in familiar words and songs
And not just silently carved in stones
To be felt by the more sentient and aware
And ignored by those occupied by more
Present and timely tangible indulgences
Guided by the elders' tales and melodies
The distant dream of purer lives and love
Manifests in this child's untamed heart
Yet searching for a world different to
This mundane and subdued reality
Each stone shadowed with the spirit
Suggestive of a more petrified golem
Granted by even a hint of heads and torsos
Were given a name from myths not stranger
To a young soul lured by the allure of fables
And so an Eastern Stone metamorphosis
Of the Yi Legend of Ashima who turned into
The famed stone still standing proudly
Among the stone forest after being forbidden
A loyal union with her most unbetraying love
Burst into life full of every sung voice and color
Leading the way for the lithic pilgrimage
Of the mythical monk of the "Journey to the West"
They too live on unchanged and unchanging
Through every weathered stone yet standing

Through every named word kept repeating
Through every ancient myth ever recalling
Kept alive and from disappearing
In every child’s
Dreams


Chorus of Epiphany:


Yes,
There must be Truth
In the unchanged and unchanging
Evergreen, and restlessly flowing
Rituals and rites kept alive
Thousands of years despite
Time, and the forsaken everything

Were the Truth and the eternal
Timeless, and the Faraway
Always so close
To home?


The Human Dream:


Ancient tongues often remain unwritten
And even those like the pictographic Dongba
Though befriending my childlike curiosity
Still remain stranger to my understanding
So only vaguely am I acquainted with
The varied rites, rituals, celebrations
Of the people keeping alive the unchanged
Words, traditions, dresses, and mythology
Ever one with nature, the elements, universal
Some dance in the darkness with torches
Others duel playfully with water under tropic sun
Like my childhood dreams of a too optimistic world
Their dresses and symbols, from ox to peacocks
Remain ever hopeful, and full of living colors
Truly, what comprehension do I really need?
When the earth’s heart beats in unison with
Their thundering dance sung with bare feet
When they hand you horns of sweet rice wine
Inviting you to a far more intoxicating dream
You only need to understand and accept
What you can evidently feel and surely see
The unchanging and unchangeable joy
So pure and kind, that will forever,
Perhaps thankfully overlooked by progress,
Timelessly remain.


Chorus of Epiphany:


Yes,
There must be Truth
In the unchanged and unchanging
Evergreen, and restlessly flowing
Rituals and rites kept alive
Thousands of years despite
Time, and the forsaken everything

Were the Truth and the eternal
Timeless, and the Faraway
Always so close
To home?


Conclusion:


It must be,
For in my nautical
Waking and asleep
Eternalist, Mythic, Human Dreams

It calls restlessly to me
From my birth, through its continuation
I’ve risen and gazed upon the violently
Violet obscure and cloudy night sky
And felt a great fear crushing down
Upon this child of an ever searching soul

I was afraid,
I will never KNOW
And know what,
I did not know

I have felt something stirring
Yet, all greatness seemed
Unreachable, unseeable
Undreamable like the hidden stars

I loved the winding rivers between earthen boulders
I loved the rainforest sacred as its wild elephants
I love the stalagmites caves and the dormant volcanoes

Yet, always longing for an unfamiliar faraway
More moved by progress and not overlooked
I was never aware, until now
The truth timeless and unchanging
Though now slow uncovering
That was always
At
HOME
The Timeless Dream of Home
By: Yue Xing Yitkbel ****
Sunday, November 24, 2019
5:53 PM
There is an unwriteable in my life,
An unspeakable in my mouth,
An undreamable in my sleep.
Such a hurt,
That I cannot even skirt
Around it, hint at what
The unpermitted is.
A blank space in my head
Once remembered,
Now consumed.
As a doe absorbs her kittens,
I unlearn myself,
Unwritten from existence,
And unspoken evermore.
Yitkbel Nov 2019
Mindful of this:

Keep reason (logos) close to your heart, and keep faith closer. (pistis)
Aim not towards greatness, but what is within yet ever beyond: the truth.

I

The summit, lofty beyond climb, great envy
Wintry and pallid, marked by death
He gives naught but vanity, a mirage empty
Yet takes all, consciousness and breathe

The ocean, vast beyond hope, waves swell
Yet, only faint specks of stars seen
While, within innumerable creatures dwell
It quenches not, but devours every being

II

Suppose the shape of truth is thus
Suppose the shape of truth and greatness
Is thus
A gargantuan ring hovering within the dark
As if the sun and its shimmering halo arc

!

Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital
Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital
Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital

III

It floats above all, bright
Drawing envy, desire, and fright
This is greatness or great praises
And Truth is concealed in its midst
But greatness and truth are yet apart
Like the Copernican spheres and our star
Only the centre is a fiery near-eternal
Man, being a being, must be ever mindful
Only the truth of white heat beams
Pure yet humble
Could warm eternally the dreamer’s dreams
Perhaps, unnoticed, but vital

!

Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital
Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital
Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital

i

Springs, quietly flow, unfeasible to boast
For only few cherish and worship them existing
If they, being forgotten, with sorrow leave
Then only arid plain, hopelessness remain

Man, rids all the grass and woodlands
To give to the future all, but air to breathe
Till roots no longer bind the dust and sand
And all suffocate, decay and then, cease

ii

Suppose the shape of truth is thus
Suppose the shape of reason and faith
Is thus
One is the skin exterior to the other, heart
Neither will continue to exist, if apart

!

Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital
Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital
Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital

iii

Reason surrounds truth, plain unambiguous
Colliding, pulling, repulsing others of same
Gathering retort agreeable as well vicious
Harbouring within his *****, the faith safe
Though it must have eachother, never apart
As of the outer shell and the inner heart
It’s the ticker of life and love that’s most vital
Man, being a being, must be ever mindful
Only a belief of anything true to your soul
Pure, bare, and forever humble
Could prolong your existence with hope
Perhaps, untimely, but eternal

!

Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital
Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital
Be the water, light, air
Transparent, unseen, unnoticeable, but vital

Conclusion

Chasing greatness, Beings of Great Crawl,
Man always craves envy and praise
But the Truth Timeless is not lofty above all
It’s not unfeelable, unreachable
It’s not incomprehensible, undreamable
We should worship humility, most of all
Willing be the unnoticed, often forgotten
Yet, unforgettable and vital
Ever true to truth, true to self,
The Giving Light, Water, and
Breathe, none can live without
Not the glamorously bright, yet cold in its light
But the one unseeable in the sky, yet Ever Warming Life
The Perfect Torus of Truth: Be The Humble Invisible But Vital
By: Yitkbel Yue Xing ****
Written originally in Chinese: November 6, 2019 8:25 PM
Translated to English: November 6, 2019 11:20 PM
Date of correction: Saturday, November 9, 2019 1:00 AM
Megan L Nov 2015
I know that you love me. That you tried so hard to make me not know, but I do. I thought this place would help you understand that I loved you, too. I was so wrong. I'm so sorry.

You could have had anybody else, but you hadn't wanted anybody else, and I should have helped you more. I didn't.

Once, you told HER and I that you loved us. Said it all the time, though you started sounding less and less sure after a while.

I guess I wanted you to have something that wouldn't have to remind you of me. Something that could belong only to you and the people you chose to invite into it. I wonder if you intended for this attacker to be let in.

Maybe when I saw the letter of my name scribbled along every rock and welded into every building, every shine, you thought you could never live with the knowledge not that we would never be together, but HER and I would be together without you. Maybe you thought that.

No, here, you let me whisper your fears at you in the dark without saying anything. You allowed me to feel at home in this place with you by my side not as a lover but as a good friend who had a deep understanding of all of this. But how could you continue to love me like this? When I am so utterly lost among my thoughts and my long drives and my harsh words?

A glimpse into your eyes, an echo of what you used to be before you met me. Simple, elegant, happy. Now, knowing me and HER and wanting us to be happy even if it means without you has caused you to wither into the walls alone.

There were remnants of us, old photographs and carvings made by my own car keys, but you disappeared the moment I whispered into the dark that I kind of liked HER. It hadn't even been real at that moment, just a small inclination given to HER because of how much we both cared about HER without the messy premise of love. Promise of love. Whatever you want to call it. But I grew to love HER, not you, and though I'm not sorry for that I am sorry that you felt the need to distance yourself the moment we confessed to one another.

Through it all, I had hoped you would stay. Really.

The vastness of this world, that was supposed to be yours but turned into mine. I feel like this is less of a planet now and more of a burial site.

Nothing will ever be the same without you. The cold of this winter was unbearable, but the cold without you to shine sun on the world is vast and unthinkable, undreamable. HER and I lay in bed often, awake, and quietly acquiesce to missing you. It is almost pathetic. We almost need you to keep ourself happy. Perhaps we are simply ticking time bombs without you to defuse us.

I tried to make it clear to you, that even with HER and I together you were still YOU; instead, YOU became you, small and distant and dejected, and while part of me was disgusted by your lack of persistence another part of me was mournful to the fiery nature that I fear I killed.

I thought that YOU and HER and I would all live happily ever after somewhere, away from the hustle and bustle of our normal lives where we could swing on children's swings forever and discuss everything and nothing. But you are no longer YOU. For that, I am sorry.
#t #k
Daniel Twist May 2019
A warm cosy bed
Thin silk sheets my solitary comfort
An environment safe and protected
Mental paralysis leaves me scared and alone
My screen family bring me comfort
Yet unreachable distance
Becomes my future
dreams undreamable
Leaving: a myth.
JD Mar 2
do you ever dream
of a dream
come true?
only attainable
in the most
unimaginable of ways

oh i dream

i dream
of dreams
i know
to never come true
except when i imagine
anything to be
possible

oh my dream

unreachable dreams
forever locked away
kept safe
from horrifying truths
only reachable
in a world that’s
kind

oh i dream
my dream
of kindness
all around
choose kindness
I stand
with you
for you
even when
you go to war
against yourself

(especially when)

I see your heart breaking
love running through
your fingers like sand

I believe in you

stardust soul
you will drink
water from the
craters of the
moon

doing the impossible
dreaming the undreamable
living, daring, being

owning the space of the universe
that is designed only for you
Kreshnik Hoti Nov 20
It’s hard for me to explain why,
but all I’m thinking about
is taking my own life.
Or maybe a slow death is what I deserve, for I’ve committed a few crimes.

Do you want to know the funny part?
My life is actually quite a blast— filled with joy and people,
filled with love and lovers,
filled with disappointments and accomplishments, mirroring each other on a performance evaluation.

But none of it matters to me—
not the success, not my degree, nor the money in my bank account.
None of it.
Nothing at all,
but all of it at once.

I want to go to sleep and never wake up again. I want to close my eyes
and finally say my farewells
in all five languages that I speak,
doomed to hear what they say behind my back,
but pretending I’m deaf so no one bothers me again.

I’m scared of the future and what’s coming, unhappy with the present, and
terrified of the past—
haunted forever, it feels like.

I love my parents,
and my dear friends,
who are the best
and the sweetest people ever.
But this is bigger than all that.

Bigger than my grades in phonetics,
where they fail us for the pleasure of doing it.
They say there are fewer and fewer places for masters,
so why not ***** you over,
and leave those empty seats to the geniuses who fit in academic boxes— just so they don’t starve to death,
and so that they can feed their future innocent children.

This is a fight between me and myself,
since I remember.
Since I was a little child—
unloved by my own peers,
misunderstood by my parents,
sexually abused by God’s messenger.
God’s messenger, huh—whose job is to make us good, not stain us with ***, and leave us wondering why, how, when, and again how,
for eternity to come.

I want to open up my wrists and bleed to death.
I want to feel the pain before I’m long gone and turned to dust—
for the pain will serve as a punishment
for my sins committed in the autarchy of this evil world we live in.

I want to end the hierarchy society has imposed on me,
on my peers, my fellow poets—on Alan Turing, who saved a couple million people and was sentenced to death for having loved a man and his *****.
Oh no, wait—he chose to swallow pills,
and maybe force himself to like women
for the sake of the natural and unnatural state of mind
Queen Elizabeth II saw fit.
Oh **.

I mean no harm to anyone—
not the people who loved me,
nor the ones who hated my guts. My guts—I sometimes hate myself.

I mean no harm to my parents,
who loved me dearly and raised me to grow into the sad lover, seeking only the love they’ve shown me.
I could talk here about Freud and his theories,
but I think that’s unnecessary,
just like his existence.

I mean no harm—
not even to my ex, who at some point
showed feelings and cared for me dearly,
before he turned into a monster, haunting me down every time I try to love another.

I mean no harm to my friends who helped me get up, over and over and over and over,
when I let other men decide my destiny and take over my decisions.

I want to be gone before Judas’ third eye appears and haunts us for having believed in Jesus and his authority over humankind.

I want to be selfish for once,
and listen to my inner child—
for I have no desire to live No more.

I want to be an angel,
fly to places and keep
an eye on you all—
protect you from Lucifer when he comes down to reach your throats.

I want to look pretty in white, angelic,
pure—
like ****** Mary, I might.

I want to dream the undreamable,

for it matters to me no more.

— The End —