Suffering is not the gate barred—
it is the gate itself.
Confusion, despair—
not obstacles, but the steps of the stair.
Raja Yoga whispers the same truth:
the stages of progress are veiled in shadow
before they flower into light.
Depression is no malady—
it is catabasis, the sacred descent.
The husk must split.
The self must fall.
Only then does the new soul rise.
The weight of the world—
that is the door.
Darkness—
that is the friend.
It calls us: Surrender.
Surrender to the great unknowing,
to the void’s wide silence,
and there—
be remade.
Yet the well is bottomless.
Some wander long in its depths.
Some tire, or falter.
In that night, a hand extended
is grace itself.
I was given such a hand.
And so, even in descent,
radiance found me.
I have 33 reasons
Why I won’t go home.
I am a loyalist
Tortured by iniquity
Captive of antiquity
But the snake inside me
Is unfolding its fibers of cypress
And the water is thicker than blood
I have 33 reasons
Why I wont go home.
R-ising
U-p
B-rings
I-n
L-ife's
E-fforts,
N-ever
E-vading
H-igh
E-levation's
R-emarkable
R-isk,
E-ven
R-elentless
A-ttacks
©bfa051325
Monocrostic (Birthday of Rubilene Herrera)
Snowflakes gently drift
through a brooding sky-
snowmen and puddles.
The risen Christ appeared to them and told them all to wait
For the promise they had heard Him speak
The coming of the Advocate, the Spirit strong and great
To strengthen them, lifting up the weak.
They waited all together just as the Lord had said,
And suddenly they heard a mighty wind.
The Spirit came like tongues of flame, resting on each head
And they knew that their mission should begin.
They went out to the people, to preach, to teach the Word.
And everyone who listened was amazed.
Though all from different places, each their language heard,
As Peter and the Twelve cried out God’s praise.
“Repent,” did Peter say, “and be baptized, everyone
In the name of Christ who forgives sins.”
Repent and then believe for He is God’s only Son.
Let all creation cry out an amen!
Come Holy Spirit! Descend upon us!
Come Holy Spirit from above!
Come Holy Spirit, the truth in which we trust!
Come fill our hearts with your love!
God’s disc of bliss
descends through the crown
half measures will not do
so we choose to drown
A disc of healing light above our head,
descends into form, guided by God’s grace,
moving steadily, by His power led,
transforming without leaving any trace,
a mild after-burn, proof of love’s embrace.
Something’s happened yet what’s there to report,
for we’re yet to comprehend it’s import.
Drowsy vertigo thoughts losing their substance
in the spirals of deafening maelstrom black waters,
my letters—my ruins—my Sodom
becoming the cries that
never reach bottom—
—never reach bottom—
never reach bottom—
now becoming both absence and presence,
lurking among their ashen, disintegrating essence.
The stubborn nails doomed in this sinking box
restoring their vileness, those rotten thoughts
somehow find themselves looking up—
looking up—
looking up—
dizzily, dismally, dishearten by the luminance
never again to be reached—
absence and presence and eminence
engulfed.
In time,
Mnemosyne alone
witnesses the damned
parts of me
die.
To journey, yet alive, through Hades’ Gates,
Brings sorrow to the world, and to the Fates.
Yet Hades is the home accepting all,
And I shall catch thee, if thou choose to fall.
Then stand within my warm, eternal night,
And to all good and evil, close thy sight.
Let neither tears nor laughter touch thy heart,
And on our winding journey shall we start.
Thus sets these souls, whom I forever claim.
And yet, preserve the honor of their name.
And let them walk amidst you, through their fame.
And Chiron, in whose cause tonight I came,
Beloved of gods, he kindled reason’s flame,
With which, ferocious fortune, sought to tame.
Forever honor those who do the same!
Poor mortals, we have loved you, love us too!
Your grief shall fade, but ours, forever new.
Then let there be a sign to show it through.
And by the leave of Zeus, I now decree
That mortals evermore shall Chiron see!
And in the stars his image shall be cast!
In Sagittarius shall his wisdom last!
I took up the call
The command was made
Placed the receiver down
Hardened my resolve
Steadying my shivering nerves
I picked up the gun
Shot at the innocent man
He fell with a thud
Blood spurted from his chest
With my descent into Hell
I fell from Grace
My gut swiftly swirled
Downwards the twilight zone
A throne of skin and bone spoke
"Thine sin you must atone."
Obscurities of one's fractured mind
Patterns of destructive, haunting thoughts
The ones that shatter all sanity
And contaminate one's mortal soul
I suppose it is time, finally
I so desperately needed them free
The demons that devour me
Heretofore rulers of my being
I once restrained and did keep
Them locked beyond mortal certainty, but
The hallowed purity I cherished
Had found its purpose in their custody
And at last, I bid my final farewell
To my trespassers, these unbidden guests
For starting today I shall persist
To emerge transformed as one of them
a n d u n i t e
w i t h t h e d a r k n e s s
w i t h i n m e
-
A cigarette
A dog-eared, tattered book
Worn as me
And the tired clock
Tick
Tick
Tick
Time unyielding
The hand on my shoulder
Recognition
Comfort
My old friend
And I’m dragged home
My sadistic lover
A brief war
A loss
Always a loss
And the tired clock
Always tired
Tick
Tick
Tick
It’s been a while when I felt frozen on the ground
Hotchpotches of skills around, I touched them one by one
With overwhelming joy, l took them in one luggage
I hauled and under a stagnant lake, my inertia has engaged.
When a spark of discernment meddled right on time
I focused on one…so light, I float and I climb
I gained, grew and flourished smoothly in each priority
I ascent, pulling others li'l by li'l on a way across…flying freely.
Mithila’s Descent
Mithila walks, sleepless,
Across the hills of grief.
The burning fire of memory trails her...
A shadow of mist,
Uncrossable,
Like an uncertain, fleeing cloud.
Time ignites in envy’s blaze.
She floats on sweat water,
Her sixteen-year youth
Nurtured in fatigue.
Bones,
Muscles,
Tremble in the humid air...
Mortality’s edge sharpens
Around her fragile form.
The endangered time of mortality
around Mithila.
Lost in illusion,
She journeys alone—
A swan without a companion,
Adrift in the wreckage
Of ruined nostalgic desire.
Puberty crossed without lust,
Her memories, treasures locked,
Clutched like kin.
Adversity hangs the balance of life.
Tonight, Mithila stands alone in the dusk...
A desolate figure,
Adapting to realms unknown:
A realm of quicksand in the dark.
Drowning,
She dies to survive.
And at last,
Mithila bloomed to be eternal!
( The 21 years college girl was recently found hanged inside the flat, as told victimised by a wealthy, powerful businessman in Bangladesh)
up and down like a jo-jo
the mind flits in opposite motions
causes doubt and delight
hardly ever rests quietly
and yet sometimes it reaches
moments of clarity
no sound disturbs its tranquility
visions fall upon an empty canvas
all senses merge into one
it is not reason nor emotion
but a meandering spirit
and when ebbs and flows
touch each other’s caress
the soul divines a powerful moon
creates a transcendental journey
thoughts are merely opinions
foisted upon us by social demand
propping up the Ego’s false needs
feelings however valuable
can be illusions
when no truth is to be had
without light there is no darkness
in symbiosis they create one
with shades of grey in between
picturesque extremes
glorious attempts of reality
breathtaking placeholders
of universal forces
that entice us to breathe in
and out of Nirvana
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