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 2d
M Solav
It is as if I were

Truly, marching, numb,
Blind despite standing
On a pillar above the sun,
Bathing in an ocean of
Clarity, clean, dumb
A kind of understanding
Or a stellar love, a unison
Dripping in slow-motion.

It is as if I were

Well fastened to a past
Faint, absent, steady,
Found elsewhere once more,
Begrudgingly opaque,
As sequestered and cast
Paint spent uneasily
Around canvases ashore,
Erosionally awake.

It is as if I were

On the verge now,
Ready to step onward,
Dare, envision, try,
If but for a moment
In an urge somehow
To unravel the skies afar
Care, abandon, fly,
And not ever lament:

It is as if I were.
Written on July 15th, 2023.

This picture was written to accompany a picture by Tim Gentle (@atimosabeart). See the result at: instagram.com/p/Cuu9oUnPkPi


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact info@msolav.com for usage requests. Thank you.
 2d
M Solav
It happens with all the holes and wounds: they grow their own face, mend their gaps, heal their rifts — those new skills of yours are but entities that emerge: to grant shelter, to stand guard, replace the old, thicken the crust, weather this human storm — through and through.

But will the skin ever return to its soil? It linger on forevermore. How tight its grip? How hardened its sappy brooks? When will it nourish those delicate roots anew?

These thoughts arise as doubt breaks free. It pours and flows as I gaze down and lower still. Shadows seep and leak as the wheel spins and drills the soul evermore hollow. Anonymous is our tree of life, but it keeps faces in store.

For it happens with all the holes and wounds: they bleed, they mend, they heal — and what don't they do as I stand here, as I bend, as I kneel — as I carve these seats in shapes of departure. Those skills thicken under my feet like growling tremors.

My past was but a dream — and I'm ready to slide like a crumbling leaf. My weariness is universal. My knowledge heavy. There cannot be a conclusion. I am growing thin.

Let me feed those roots anew.
Through and through.
Written on July 19th, 2023.

This picture was written to accompany a picture by Matthew Fertel (@digprod4). See the result at: instagram.com/p/Cu4uhxtOkYm


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact info@msolav.com for usage requests. Thank you.
 2d
M Solav
If you walk, you slip
If you stop, you stall
If you touch, you stick
If you drop, you fall

In the eternal,
In the eternal now.

If you give, you take
If you kneel, you bow
If you dream, you wake,
If you seek, you doubt,

And when night shadows blend
With the light of the dawn
Remember to forget
That you've come to depart

In the eternal,
In the eternal now.
Written in September 2020.
New verse added in November 2024.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
 Jan 2023
M Solav
Sorry but not sorry
For the things that I have done.
Sorry but not sorry
For all the pain under the sun.

 And all the longing to set ourselves apart
 From the will of the masses,
 Though we clearly stand as one.

 And the reticence to play our part
 In building on new bridges,
 Though we clearly need them now.

  Short story long,
  Long story short -
  Sorry but not sorry
  For writing off this song.

Sorry but not sorry
For all the excuses that I make.
Sorry but not sorry
For not owing back what we take.

 And all the mannerism along which we pretend
 To care so much about the future,
 Though we clearly act for our only sake.

 And the conflicting messages that we must send
 As we aim to **** the messenger,
 Though we clearly all covet his fame.

  Short story long,
  Long story short,
  Sorry but not sorry,
  For writing off this song.

Sorry but not sorry
For casting off one more blame.
Sorry but not sorry
For the ills that one must name.

 And all the finger-pointing with no concrete action
 As we forget the final hour,
 Though we clearly hear the call

 And all the conflicts that we set in motion
 As we bow to the god of power,
 Though it clearly draws our fall

  Short story long,
  Long story short,
  Sorry but not sorry,
  For writing off this song.
Written on January 8th, 2023.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
 Jan 2023
M Solav
Hear the asynchronous pulsation,
Clicks of eyelids, toggling,
And the beating of a heart:
A Life, in thick layers of rhythms,
Coating a stubborn core.

Watch the white curtain of the mansion,
Behind windows, dancing,
And the fire in the hearth:
A Life, in thick layers of stones,
Glowing out with warmth.
Written in August 2017.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
 Jan 2023
M Solav
Oh it's all hanging threads,
Hanging ligaments with drops of red:
Vines without poles - flesh without bones.

Events roll out in scarlatine flashes:
Eyes in crowd flap down their eyelashes
And in silence the suspense grows strong;

The bricks are set, the façade is over,
But from within, the house still lacks a structure:
One penetrates rooms without walls.

A memory from the depth is brought up,
A storyline used to link so many dispersed dots:
Leaves are flying free as the childhood tree rots...

Oh it's all hanging threads
Hanging sources, hanging roots:
Scars over the sun revolving in loops.

And the conduit narrows down,
Leaks a single bolt of light to glow:
An empty room as throne and crown

And a thorn, pain escaping death,
A frown of estrangement in the face
Of all that's known - what's most unknown.

Spectators stare deceptively
While promises of relief are spared;
They too are suspended in the air...

Oh it's all hanging threads
Hanging loose, hanging dead;
Waiting for the artisan to ease the noose.
Written in October 2017.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
 Jan 2023
M Solav
In the Melting of Days
We were Swept like the Fog
While a Sunshine of Rays
Made us Crawl in the Mud.
Written in February 2017.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
 Jan 2023
M Solav
Please - hear my voice, your good old
Friend - is talking in to
You - let it ring inside of
You - let words echoe in
and Through.

Please - hear this prayer of a
Child - you once were, don’t let the
Tide - of this moment sweep
Aside - and the water'll flow out
and Through.

It’s not time to start over;
The bridge's almost done.
Can't you see where you come from,
That good ol' sun rising on the shore?

Please - the other side isn’t
Far - nothing else's ever
Achieved - carry yourself a little
Further - let your legs walk across
and Through.
Written in July 2016 - for a friend going through hardship.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
 Jan 2023
M Solav
The world is filled with cracks through which I can escape;
Your word have carried me upon one more of those trails.
The land is dry to us, I fail to see to what avail
We walk apart parallel to the truth that keeps us here.

The distant line, horizon, that now draws across the sea...
My eyes have reached out my body in the hope that it could flee.
Whenever I have tried, when I wanted to get there,
A cloud had formed in my mind, no longer was I aware:

Between tangible reality
And a vanishing dream,
The path of least resistance
Still leads me up the hill.

Now a witness of my own being in change,
I no longer mould to all the forms;
I, this dreary cage.

The world is painted black and white, a moon in the lake;
Your word have brought me where I watch the mirror pearl.
The waters are appeased tonight, I can see it all too clear:
We walk apart parallel to the truth that keeps us here.

The distant line, horizon, an illusion of infinity...
My eyes have followed its line only hoping that they could see
Some form of higher reason that lie in stable shapes,
But the staring threw me off and no longer was I aware:

Between tangible reality
And a vanishing dream,
The path of least resistance
Still leads me up the hill.

Between tangible reality
And a vanishing dream,
The path of least resistance
Still leads me up the hill.

No longer a witness of my own being in change,
Moulding anew to all the forms,
I, this merry cage.
Written in July 2016.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
 Jan 2023
M Solav
​Explosion of the white tree,
A synapse in the damp air.
The fluid around the corsair,
Ambassador of the secret;
The perfume of a comet
Descends upon the wetland.

A goosebump stretches my hair;
Ripples forming across the sea
As nostril and flowers meet
Miles and miles without end.

The green flame always return
In a frenetic haze, a burst of fire,
As the solar wave caresses the earth
At welcomed glances, so soft a fur.

A last effort renewed forevermore;
Delirious poison continually brewed;
An elixir against the veil of dusk;
Cause and effect from dust to dust.

As the mind steps out back further,
It finds itself returned at the core,

Til all of Spring elapses.
Written in July 2016.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
 Jan 2023
M Solav
We were mixed up when it built;
One another forced to coexist.
As it drew us high and higher still,
Below us grew the abyss.

Overflowing with ecstasy,
We left our hearts astray.
The obnubilating and obsolete
Had gotten our way.

Obstacles vanished one by one,
Increasingly slaying the beast.
Moments we thought we'd won
Are when we'd won the least.

We stretched out our hands towards the sky
Like wretched ghosts wrapped in disguise,
As though we had just found a new paradise
With the devil ahead leading as our guide.

We followed him throughout the land:
"This way leads us to the great fountain",
And now we're stuck in a desert of sand
Wondering when oases shall be attained.

We've taken a bet against our nature.
Was it anyone-in-particular's fault?
"For every curse there'll be a cure,
For every flood there'll be a drought."

Once more, again, we shall repeat,
To morrow, and for ever more.
When the sunshine now seems to greet
And when the darkness falls,

Comes that nighttime of our lives;
We ponder what we've been,
But what we're we supposed to be
When the pact was always sealed.

So we wait in such anxiety,
The impatience growing itchy;
And we amass, tall in piles,
To crash onto the shores like the sea.
Written in August 2016.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
 Jan 2023
M Solav
There are clouds of sound and noise
That utter thoughts in a muffled voice,
Gestures of hands simply won’t cast out
Cloudy skies in days of doubt.

Like strangers lost in a crowd
Whose cries are buried by the loud,
The loud din of helpless wanderers
Whose presence disrupts and disturbs.

All strangers left on their own,
Islands floating out in the fog;
Orphans with cruel fates to bemoan;
Fates that are swept under the rug.

And who's looking with interest, who reaches down with an arm,
Never so eager to help, neither too late nor too soon?
Who would make this world perhaps a little more warm
And freshen the skies of our cloudy afternoon?
Written in December 2017.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
 Jan 2023
M Solav
There is form. And there is force.
Lightning blazes the sky with frightening might
Which bursts and dissipates in arteries of light
How it animates the living,
With its thundering displays!
How it penetrates us with awe,
And fills darkness with stories
And that is what we call the Force.

There is form. And there is force.
Gushes of wind brush the once austere surface
Which rises and resonates in hills that interlace
How it fuels our imagination
With its frenetic waltz!
How hypnotic its furious motion
And the flow of its assaults
And that is what we call the Force.

There is form. And there is force.
Mountains spring from seas and glide down the coast
Which is where we have crawled and now thrive the most
How it shapes the current world
With us barely noticing!
How volatile all our endeavors
And at the mercy of its whim.
And that is what we call the Force.
Written in June 2019 - for an exhibition in Peking.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
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