Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
There is a Buddhist proverb about loss.
when a vase breaks, do not become saddened
the vase was never going to survive
until the end of time.
In time, all things break, fall, leave, die
but it was all going to happen no matter what.
so when the vase cracks, shatters;
there has been no loss, only a fulfillment of destiny
In this way, all things make their end,
and their peace, with the earth

But there is one thing the Buddhists forgot
time
Yes it is true, that it is the course of all things
To leave ones life at some point.
And perhaps it is destiny indeed.
But there is loss.
Time cannot be brought back, replaced, or remade.
all of the time we were supposed to share is gone

In the end, time is also destined to run out.
Maybe time
Is the only noble loss to feel sad about.
No attachment to physical things;
Vases, cars, bodies, buildings, grass, or a book.
But rather an attachment
To the future- all of the hope and dreams of what's to come.

I am at peace with all of my losses
Except for that of time
I've lived by that principle for a very long time, and now for the first time in my life I am questioning it's validity....hmmmm
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
ellie
What if
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
ellie
What if I mess it up and you realise I'm not
"the one".

What if I break your heart and grind the fragments into a million tiny pieces?

What if I say goodbye only to realise that the word I was looking for was
"Stay".

What if you can't handle the pressure of being with someone so beautifully insane?

What if our differences tear us apart and we end a potential lifetime of laughter with
"Sorry".

What if every "what if" I have in my head destroys us before we even begun?
I am so worried that I will hurt you
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
ryn
Wonder
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
ryn
Wonder if when constellations do align
And universe would finally see.
Would it be presumptious of me
To claim that then, finally you'd be mine.

Wonder if my sense would triumph over
So that my heart would be muted.
With all its contents looted...
Would I only seem sillier?

Wonder if I walked away
In due course.
You'd then take my hand in yours
So that a minute longer I'd stay...

Wonder if you'd understand
When if these feet
Should choose to retreat...
That they had to... It wasn't planned.

Wonder if it'd make a difference
If I said that I had to...
Not for me but more for you.
Would we still be able to love in silence?

Wonder if you'd wish that you made it all clear.
Before the gravity of reality would crush us,
Before the vastness of uncertainty swallows us,
Before my presence would diminish and inevitably disappear.

Wonder if you find my pessimism exhausting.
The volatile nature of my moods...
Especially when I dive deep in solitude
And resurface with a trove of words that are no less than exasperating.

Wonder if you loved me enough
In a day...
To stop me from walking away...
Or loved me too much to plainly say

That...

Future's days would see us apart...
Future's moon would glow but not for us...
Future's stars would sing but not of us...
Future's sun would dry out the passion in our hearts.
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
ryn
Spectrum Blue
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
ryn
Blue is the boulder overlooking the bay
Loosely pocked by weather-worn stains
Unwavering guardian of all that lay
Enigmatic yet silently screaming its pains

Blue is the reflection dancing playfully
Laid generously by the twilight moon
Upon the vast canvas of the darkened sea
Elated ripples readily accepting such a boon

Blue is the halo encircling the moon
Lavish circlet gifted by the sun
Unnoticed by eyes that slumbered too soon
Evading the sands of time that run

Blue is the silhouette of a lone sailboat
Lurching and bobbing by will of the waves
Unknowingly catching the zephyrs that float
Eluding the fingers from watery graves

Blue is the man; perched upon the boulder
Lapping up the stars mirrored upon the sea
Usurped heart of his had never sung drearier
Ensnared by woeful wonderment...
                                           *
*that man is me...
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
Liz And Lilacs
Can someone please tell me
what it is like to be a first choice?
To be wanted?
To feel approval?
To have some one look at you,
like you're worth something?
Next page