Soft petals in the wind doth blow,
a dance of beauty a dance of woe.
Delicate scents so sweet and fair,
a cherry blossom beyond compare.
Yet each petal falls to the ground,
a sharp reminder that life is unsound.
For even a blossom that is so grand
is subject to time's unyielding hand.
Fleeting and fragile, like the final breaths,
life ebbs and flows until its eventual death.
Beauty may shine but it cannot last,
a reminder that time cannot be surpassed.
So let us cherish each moment we find,
for life is a journey, not an endless grind.
Like the cherry blossom we must learn to let go
and embrace the finalities that make life so.
For it is only in this vulnerability we see,
the elegance and wonder of life's mysteries.
And though it may fade, like a Cherry blossom's bloom,
the memories we make will endure
like the sweetest perfume.
“This universe is differentiated into spheres, seven Swargas and seven Patalas.”
~ extract from ‘The Holy Science’
Brahman the absolute alone exists,
who by His will all the worlds manifests,
realms of contrast where delusion persists
until exhausted, soul’s ego lust rests,
renouncing forever earth bound conquests.
We need not analyse realms and domains.
Let’s focus instead on cleansing soul’s stains.
Dum-Dum, muffled gongs
empty the heart.
They fall from my umbrella-
uninvited, gone.
Winter Hiku 13
~ ~ ~
wild winter winds ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~~
even more wrathful
the barking dogs.
deep snow this morning
I see the kids down the hall
lacing up their boots
Love is patient love is kind
This comes from the One who is divine!
love does not envy and never boast.
That’s only pride and to God it’s gross!
It is not arrogant or nor is it rude.
Christians like that have the wrong attitude.
It does not insist on having its own way.
Those pushy people will account some day.
It is not irritable nor does it resent.
Christians like that should quickly repent.
It does not rejoice when others are wronged.
Among God’s children it don’t belong.
However it rejoices in the truth.
Teach this Christians to your youth.
Love bears, believes, hopes, and endures everything.
This is the word of our King of kings!
Finally He says Love never ends.
Ask God to do this in and through you my friends!
The lack of love can be seen all around.
In every city country and town.
Praying to our God is the first place to start.
Asking Him to plant seed in every human heart.
Observe the modern generations walk
on by; they suckle from the plastic teat
of coffee cups, and stumped by stamping feet
they shamble unaware from flock to flock.—
infant adults—if earnest I may speak;
Look there: one loops in circles (a grand feat!)
and, as if an ornithological suite,
the gaggle shuffles behind,—“squawk squawk squawk!”
Yikes… I suppose that if I ran at ‘em
they’d scatter faster than frightened pigeons.—
Wouldn’t even need to make the barest noise,
merely the sight of a threatening poise
is enough to disperse their religions
(yes—religions—phony, false—“fun”:—numb!).
Memories lost within a frozen mist
And dangling in the static atmosphere
Of muddled recollection of things dear
Haunt the backwoods of the years she has missed.
Through foggy glances, blurred thoughts that persist
In the dim haze, shapes of the past, appear;
These flittering figures, some far, some near,
Skitter through her mind, meek and shadow-kissed.
But soon they drift to a fathomless past,
A time she can no longer touch, just hear.
Rocking mechanically, her face austere,
She searches, brow stuck in a furrowed twist.
As I watch her eyes wander vacant space,
I wonder, “Will she still recall my face?”
The world was my darkness
The soot in my blackened sights
I once cried in shallows
Words entomed within my grave
Dug with smiles merrit of fading sorrows
My final morrows led by fate
Towards the rejoicing of tomorrow.
3.11.23
In a tranquil garden, a gardener toils endlessly,
tenderly blessing each ornament of life.
Observing them sprout grow and flourish with grace
like children maturing day by day.
Growing with unwavering strength
even taller.
The world outside is daunting and foreign
where strange, mystical beings reside
but the gardener carries with him his garden,
nourishing it deep inside
so he needs but to imagine those tranquil blossoms
and even in the desert he finds home.
"Hi".
One word takes my to those blue skies of heaven,
your voice the north on a compass in the sea.
How I crave for those brief interactions,
occasional furtive glances,
occasional day dreamy stares.
How I wish I could cover the distance between us in two great strides,
roll you in my embrace
and say what I've been holding on so deeply to you.
Alas I am but a coward,
always replying with an excitable yet shameful
"Hey".
Will I regret it?
Of course
An artists paintbrush splashes againt a white canvas,
like the sun on an untouched sea
the palette of vibrant colours the same as
the rays of light reflecting off the waters surface.
Wielding his brush in between his fingers,
he mixes two colours carefully,
blurring the line
between the water and the beach.
He paints yet more,
leaving strokes of fading yellow, vibrant red and pink
upon the sea's deep blue ripples and frothing crests,
the sun's image shimmering on the surface.
Intricately he constructs serveral palm trees,
their leaves tickled by the wind,
their bodies forming delicate shadows
dotted all around the beach.
Ethereal rays of light illuminate the idyllic scene,
a majestic combination of ruby, violet and gold.
As the final strokes are set and done,
the silent painting jumps into a cacophony of life.
The cry of seagulls.
The neverending crash of the sea,
palm trees swaying gently in the ocean breeze
as the sun slowly sinks beneath the waves.
Ah!
A summer's sunset
Domestic Terrorists
corrupt officers
Mc kissick niece
attacking innocent
persons stop sending
Terrorists threats fraud
waste scum bullying
terrorizing blowing up
vehicles seated with the
arson murderer of
nine persons Ciro Gargano
actually blew up my skull
with a car bomb because I
wore wires pregnant for
the FBI buying weapons
and drugs from junk sick
corrupt officers severe
repeat violent ofenders
ARSON MURDERER OF 9 INC.
I'd heard a story some years ago of thirteen cautions let it be known.'
On gordon brown (prime minister then) about lewd acts with young
Boys not men!
And not uoon the sports field (you'll now ken!) Reuters knew yet a
Story ever aired.? How badly could all news sources be impaired?
are you pho real?
there is an overwhelming consensus
i had to ask
two people had told me they hate all soups
'it's just water and soggy food.'
'slop in a bowl.'
'looks like dish water.'
what kind of reaction is this?
the varieties found online are incredible
i am stewing -
on hearing this, a colleague said to me,
'it's like your gf leaving u for another bloke
only for her to hang around your house for
a few more days.'
i said to him,
'it's not like that at all.'
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