Tag: oneself

Fairytale

Permit me to say a few,
Words of my choice,
Before the whispers that they all echo,
Replace my own voice.

Ye tremble truly,
Come day, come night,
And lay woe on passing feet,
Who knows you as a leaf to scribble,
And leave in wind to never meet.

In dreams you rule the dawn and dusk,
Alive, you pick no pebble,
You turn to stone when the time is ripe,
Afraid of being unable,
This place, it’s a wilderness,
And the wild are lurking low,
Here all shapes are drawn as one,
Here your foe is friend and friend a foe.

You aim to swim from shore to shore,
And bare the ocean upon thy palm,
Eye tempests for it’s hollowness,
Dive deep in her bloodless calm,
But the ship you choose,
Have no mast, nor sail,
There be no oars to row,
Deep in desert thy anchor sinks,
And the wind; she seldom blow.

The hands you lay,
Against the sky,
With the hope that they will hold,
Will you shatter too, like others before,
When those pillars of pride grow old.
For if so then they will come for you,
Wherever you may roam,
And put thou in a cage, and say,
Now you have a home.

For this fairy world,
This wilderness,
Tries one at every turn,
Here reigns he who knows the truth;
To shine one has to burn.

( To those of us who dream but never do.)

Magnum

Deep into this journey,
Long after the deep susurration of life,
And the sense of longing,
Of natal desire,
Is dried and shorn as bark and wool,
And bright as the nectar corals,
Burnt with tired timber,
Does the dull truth of things,
Worm in.

Baleful eyes, kissed with Kohl yet
Empty inside,
Burrowed by the undoing of this ethereal Magnum,
This caustic world,
With it’s walls of freedom, aching,
Breaking against blindness,
Seek,
Weep,
And speak, no more than what the silence taught them in form of tears.

A panacea,
To all immutable happenstance. Measured, immeasurable,
Paraded or parodied,
Through one life iterated, in many lives over,
Rags and rags, covering a bareness,
That reflects in no light,
But unfurls in each darkness,
Like moon upon lotus lips,
Of philosophers and Pharaohs,
Of travellers and treasurers,
Of hunters and hoarders.

Unceasingly mitigated,
Yet never really moving,
Until stillness itself stills,
And all forms, wither into one,
And all one’s merge into none.

Panacea,
The answer to no question.

Faded.

To know that the world,
Is as colorful even now,
As it seems, in the vintage monochromes;
Silent in their chorus of a bygone time,
Is a sweet thought with sour taste,
For how are we to dwell and dissolve,
One with the eternal moment,
And yet be remembered,
As a sole flower in the bouquet,
If years away from now,
Fading against the flow,
We are to remain nothing more than a shade of each other.