she is a possibility, and i call her “flame”

her myth precedes her, and presides

the whimsical outflows of the springs of time

she is a beauty, i hear, when beheld from afar

(from close up, what then titillated nearly repels:

as is oft the case with wishes upon a star)

she knows to be curse or blessing in disguise

she sings and hums in the wind’s respites

once i allude to my future, claim it does not exist

on my contradicting myself, she is first to insist:

“if you can think it, it is, as for how else

do i bubble up every morning inside your well?

why question my materiality

when it lives in the intersection of your limits and reality’s?”

she is here, but not here,

wails at my every adversity

yet when i ask in indignation for a helping hand, she

evaporates into thin air

as if never seen, never been

leaving me on the verge of lunacy;

and as if someone knew, they inaudibly speak:

“if you wish to find me again,

don’t look for things that others achieve

what they built with their very own hands

are not the words wherein i breathe”

but i don’t know where to go, i whisper

i don’t know where my steps lead

“smell the air and head for freshness

at the end of the road, i will accept your complaint.

if you learn to forgo, you learn to outgrow.

the flame is waiting at the end.”

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Your Rainbow-colored Melody

To the one whose laugh echoes songfully

at the outset of a first brightening:

After a long, long journey

the last page of our prelude is written,

and the sun glitter stretching far to the horizon

greets this new morning sounding the bells of destiny.

 

We have always faced the world candidly, both you and I.

We have always put forward our best bravado

During tough times, we called out each other’s name, right?

It cried and smiled with us, this clear blue sky

Sending our sincerity across cliffs and tides

 

Whose heartbeat is it that resounds in my chest, and

Whose cool fingers touch my salt-rosy cheeks?

Does the foam gathered around my feet carry a message for me?

If so, then…

 

See you soon! I will meet you at the seaside

On this day with the warm wind blowing

Where we will walk along the azure infinity with interlocked fingers

And the cranes return from southern climes

 

We have always practiced abnegation, both you and I.

We have always striven for everyone’s happiness

But on this day, an old life ends and… a new one begins…

 

See you soon! I will meet you at the seaside

On this morning with the earth’s bliss shining

And if one were to seek us, our footprints would be a guide

The seaside of our hearts is awash with light

 

I have always run towards my goals with resolve and fervor

Defended my childish dreams, picked up fights in stride

So far, I do not know where our paths lead, but

I know of a place in the future that awaits our arrival in time

 

See you soon! – I say – I will meet you at the seaside

And your laugh echoes in the wind…

How to catch up

If you see me as inspiration, know that I’m not:
I am made of flesh and bones
A mind that is light-years ahead of yours
A heart that breathes love like unpolluted air
And a little sparkle, a neologism
that means gibberish and marks difference
I am not verdancy, not glasses, not messy hair
Best forget me if you have no millenary to spare
To write down the words, learn the notes of the scale
You claim to understand the conscious
You claim to know the structure of truth
Yet I remain opaque in my very opacity
As the laws of nature do not apply to me
If you see me as inspiration, limit me no longer
Liberate yourself of ideations of your fancy
This woman is beyond comprehension in her simplicity
My tongue speaks thunder
My hands work wonders
I seek and seek and arrive nowhere
Yes, in that respect, we do not differ
Yet hear a last tidbit of my tenacity:
I cannot give up searching
I cannot sit idle and play by rules others wrote for me
So if you see me as inspiration, know that I envy
how your journey granted you answers abundantly
Our paths crossed and they seperate:
Your answers are right to your feet
My feet have yet to carry me
to the land of milk and honey
To the sacred abode of my answers
and the conundra that must surely await me

Through The Looking Glass

Your thoughts wander.
You float in the sea, and bathe in the afterglow’s play.
Out of nowhere, a negative thought rises to surface –
You breathe in, and you close your eyes.
You sink –
You sink gleefully –
You surrender your sense of everything.
The photons coalesce,
your heartbeat melds with the sea’s,
and azure has lost all of its historicity –
So how do you still hear
your veins’ quiet whisperings?
How does your shell prepare for ascent
When your ghost still swims merrily?
And when you break through the mirror,
an unshrinking you grazes your face,
just merely,
just slightly –
In anything but, yet just five minutes…
You open your eyes.
You shake your head.
You sit up straight –
You resume your work.
There’s a lot to be done.
(Little is won by delving too long in my own universe.)

Inspiration came from a scene in an anime I watched yesterday as my bedtime story, which, in my opinion, illustrates this stream of consciousness quite well. 

renaissance (The Quest for the I)

My train to nowhere
where are you leading me?
The wagons are my sleeping place
but oftentimes, I
end up gazing at the stars instead
twinkling down from the velvet sky
Visions of the past flashing by
and I weep for chances bygone
prospects deceived
fates existent in their potentiality, and –
poof! –
like a soap bubble –
fates that were not meant for me
But once morning arrives
and the windows are surrounded anew
by the now-familiar greenery
the sun reflects in my mirror eyes
and I realize: no longer am I a moon –
 
Where is my train taking me?
Where have I set off to so late –
yet not too soon?

… so help me God

Everything is ephemeral. Yes! Indeed! Nothing lasts forever.

That being said: by applying a constructivist relativism to the human experiences en masse, we rob our existence off its basis – the quest for truth, for a higher consciousness and – dare I say it? – godliness. You cannot not invest your heart into your affairs of importance and then wonder and weep at chances bygone and days lost. To believe in truth is to believe in its elevated meaning and meaningfulness! To consecrate oneself to it is to search and roam the intersections – bounce oneself silly in the back-and-forth between their elastic walls – and to make use of each day: in utmost appreciation of the desperation involved in the pursuit of the higher things…

You will never arrive. You will never revel in blissful certainty. Your life, as you learn, is a walk on a tightrope – and the path to mastery the endurance in fixating on the point ahead.

If I am to lose faith in everything, I know that I will never lose faith in my red beating heart.

delusions

Love is whimsy,

barely a flame, mere dust

Love eternal does not exist.

 

Poems clog the shores like plastic waste

In a tragic attempt at grasping the world’s greatest mystery

And thus pollute the oceans

In a tragic attempt at sterility

 

Mark my words, and do not partake

In the world’s greatest treachery

All I have learnt from love is this:

It cannot be institution, if to be conserved naturally;

neither self-praise, or else shorn of its dignity;

– and the first of all loves is sweetest, because new! –

And the first of loves never last

And by the time you meet the truest of them all

The forces that be will, eventually, seperate you

Because even a hawk does not claim with such jealousy

The gem of gems, your heart’s fidelity

 


insomniac and meh.

I hope I finally learn.