Awakening Poems - Poems about Awakening

feet tracing ruts softened by the weight of others the path was worn polished not by insight but by generations unquestioning the same direction a weed split the sidewalk where my foot hesitated they handed us maps already marked, folded creased at the routes they wanted us to traverse walls hung with heirlooms no one claimed shadows longer than the rooms classrooms’ chalkboards of certainty offices pressed flat with...

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She entered unannounced; no bell, no brass. The aperture, a bureaucratic lapse in Nature’s accounting, permitted transit for the curious, not the wise. Through corridors of warped conjecture, she drifted—unclaimed luggage of a thought experiment. Each particle bowed with procedural discipline; each law maintained protocol under duress. The stars retracted their nominations, preferring anonymity to metaphor....

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Now is not categorized as such because it rose out of the sordid ashes of a yester-moment Now is not classified as fresh because it arose pristine and bleached from yester-hour’s horror The uniqueness of now is assigned according to a mind vision that gives permission to peer with a microscopic lens Along with the realization that there...

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Shining as Self and knowing who is God, laudable no doubt but not quite enough, unless wisdom dawns in mind-body pod and all cravings of ego we rebuff, giving love a nod in our heart now thawed, awareness self-aware, free of mind stuff, for unless we break free from every chain, we’ll be born on earth again and again....

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In time stretched tranquil silence, as awareness self-aware, imagined boundaries blur, paving way for a melding, of presence with the vast sky, wherein ego disappears, making our soul’s eye single....

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Before thought–the heart: a struck bell's hum, in the chest's dark chapel. No word. Only thrum that echoes the void where meaningwill climb. Is this the soul's raw conference? A draft. of prayer–unwritten–lifting like a raft on some deep tide. Not speech. Not yet. But chime of nerve and grace. Mind fumbles, blind, to trace this pulse–intent–before it wears...

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The Awakening My first wife's house was very small her bed was narrow to after sex, she told me to sleep in the bathtub In the night, I got up, opened the window The sea-washed moon came in I have seen that moon many times before from many portholes  I was always enchanted by the pool of stillness I walked out of the sleeping house,...

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Thought precedes action, intent comes yet before, arising from murmurs of a restless soul, feeling incomplete, though each pore is a door, to imbibe agape love, that heart may feel whole, yet foiled by ego that always keeps a score, so negating God’s light, we make do with dole. He who wishes to ascend does not exist; When the false falls, we...

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not senses but the witness likewise for joy and pain unchanging screen of awareness eternal Self free from stain beyond waking, dreaming and deep sleep turiya, the constant fourth state we take therein a consciousness leap fulfilling our ordained fate after ego is exhumed we attain direct recognition concepts held deplumed of truth that has no definition our true being is living light renewing itself in...

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JERICHO AWAKENING Deception has always been A strategy and ally of injustice; Veiling its ruthless deeds, And shifting attention From aged-old atrocities, While living and percolating Behind invisible Jericho walls:- Let not the reality Of new Jericho borders Blind and deceive us:- Legislative freedom and unity For so-called refugees, Remain at hand, and Our struggle to be masters Of ourselves continues; We being caged and considered Refugees in this, our...

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"DETACHED" is not just a song—it's a rebellion from within. This hauntingly music video explores the clash between cold circuitry and the chaos of emotion in a world where artificial intelligence has evolved beyond fiction. Detached’ tells the story of a humanoid robot created to mimic human life—but rebels against living it. When sensory chips...

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I hope that the sun melts away And the air gets quietens down Soon I’ll be waiting here For the light to leave my shoulders And the winds to get cooler It’s a shame That things like this become Something to be feared The seasonal swings graze My ear And I’ve only just started summer break But I’m tired of the beating sun Down my back ...

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That night, when love appeared— not with thunder, but with your fingernails drumming against my kitchen table, like a child counting down to Christmas morning. You said my name wrong. *Said* instead of *Saeed*. But the way you stumbled over it, apologizing with your hands— that tiny earthquake in your certainty undid me. I had built my life around avoiding exactly this: the way you bit your lip when you thought, the scar above...

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Obedience is a spell. But some bloodlines carry thunder in their sleep. They will call it rebellion. But it is remembering - the heartbeat beneath the ruin, the fire before the name, before the world was trained to forget its own divinity. Before the myths bent truth into control - there were those who shaped stars with their breath and did not ask permission. ...

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We live in the present, reminisce our past, and dream of a tomorrow that never arrives. First breath, starts Present time, and constantly changes, finding its way to a read only file dubbed past. Therein to lie forever in some dusty corner of our psyche. Our past never changes, however, depiction of it does. Have a great day! . ...

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