Awakening Poems - Poems about Awakening

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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In Nishapur's dust and blazing heat, A physician walked the wealthy street— Young hands skilled in healing's art, Rich purse, restless, yearning heart That craved what gold could never meet. Wine and laughter filled his nights, Pleasure fed his appetites, Till one dawn brought strange surprise: An old man with ancient eyes And bundle clutched with weathered might. "Master," spoke that voice so low, "Tell me...

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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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Written: May 24, 2025, For contest by Brian Strand *********************** F i n g e ...

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shadows draw across the canvas with light oily strokes and dry wet soul the white pythons and black mambas conspire as their tongues slither and roll down the canvas. like honey, it marinates the mellow white bruising it with time… yet as the honey lathers and the white bathes, the paint stops with all its might leaving behind the...

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? Open Your Eyes ? Open your eyes, not just to the light But to the stillness that waits in the absence of sight Truth doesn’t hide in temples or skies It lives in the silence behind your own eyes You search for answers in pages and speech But the knowing you seek is just out of reach Not because it's far,...

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"I’m Still Here, And I Will Shake You" I’ve walked roads you wouldn’t whisper about. Where shadows don’t follow, they lead. Where the air tastes like sorrow and the silence presses like a loaded gun against your temple at 3 a.m. The dirt remembers me. It groans where I nearly gave up, where the weight of my own breath felt like betrayal. You want real? Not...

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