Shadows on the edge,
memories slide out of view
never full focused—
the past lingers like a breath
you turn to catch, but it's gone
Sideways glances sway
moments in periphery
blurs smear the mirror—
déjà vu calls to play its hand
closing again, happenstance
Gazing at the lake
trees melt into reflection
golden rays adrift—
I reach to hold the shimmer
my fingers grasp only air
A leaf in the wind
fluttering in dusk-lit breeze
reminds me of you—
every sideways glance reveals
the weight of recognition
Wharf boards creak beneath
our bare feet press grips
we leap without thought—
each splash resounds in my chest
as time refuses to pass
The late sun hovers
painting ripples in copper
horizon half-formed—
déjà vu hums in waves
whispering, be still, be calm
Beneath the surface
voices travel in bubbles
half-song, half-echo—
rising like our lost laughter
from another life we lived
All glimpses return,
lakes, ripples, sunsets, jumps, leaves,
sewn multi-threaded
sideways in peripheral
repeats until the love stays—
Your hand in my hand
Can this feeling last forever?
I don't want to share
You with anyone, it's not fair.
I want you to shine
Only for me, because you're mine.
It's selfish, but I
Unraveled our destiny's signs
It's you,
It's like déjà vu,
I loved you in the past,
I knew that we must
Keep this feeling for our future.
It's you,
It's like jamais vu,
I’ve known you for a while,
And I know that you're mine.
I'll choose you over and over
in each of our lives
Because you're mine
My hand in your hand,
Can this feeling last forever?
Things fade into sand,
But with you, it doesn’t matter.
Do you see the light
When I’m here by your side?
It’s selfish, but I
Unraveled our destiny's signs
Even if the skies fall,
I'll find you through it all,
Even if the skies fall,
Even if the skies fall,
I'll find you through it all,
I'll find you through it all,
'Cause my heart knows the map to your heart
Reviewed by Holly Hearsey. Thank you, dear.
NULL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Déjà vu, a strange, fleeting sensation—moment eerily familiar,
Parallel realities bleed into one another, align, and then bewilder.
SEEDS OF PERPETUITY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just beneath the surface of our daily lives, a deep current flows, the subtle murmur of a forgotten agreement, the shimmering echo of the original dream held within each soul. This dream is a fragile thing, flickering in and out frequently doused by the clamor of the world, immediate needs, expectations, and urgent distractions. Yet, the soul’s yearning remains, a seedling just beneath the surface of consciousness. It tugs at the edges of our thoughts, whispers of what could be, of what should be.
It's the reason we chase certain passions, feel drawn to specific people, and experience that unsettling sense of déjà vu – a fleeting echo of the life we were meant to lead. When we remember even a small piece of why we came to life, we pull the seeds of perpetuity farther into the world of time. "The inner seed keeps trying to sprout, but often our fate places us at a crossroads or nails us to a cross before we pay proper attention."
seeds sprout from darkness
emerge from remembering
seeds of perpetuity
*Quoted from Michael Meade
Her inability to love.
Love like bitter sweet honey,
Humming to the song of her heart,
One she has long forgotten the lyrics.
A reminisced feeling of sealed Déjà vu.
And she struggles.
At sight of change,
Freedom of her own mind.
Inability broken.
She is afraid.
A violent ringing in her ears.
Her hearts song screams
As she willingly closes the door
With a tender smile.
We are an entity and so is space,
Mandukya Upanishad claims as true,
a knowing which is revealed by God’s grace,
when flickers therein show light passing through.
Déjà vu suggests time does not exist,
for there’s no way we could have been and seen
and yet we did so why should we insist,
that life’s not a movie, played on time’s screen?
Space and time entwined, is the cage we’re in,
anchoring us in manifestation
but if practice of silence we begin,
we see through pores of space, light’s pulsation.
Dropping then all vicarious knowing,
winds of truth in our heart begin blowing.
Sitting in the sunshine
streaming through the window
my catnap's long overdue
it's way past time I drifted off
to the land of milk
(and honey) ah Shangri-La
a return to déjà vu
and my reverie
it's no hallucination
merely visualisation
of a fertile imagination
and when all is said and done
no I'm not the one
(but, 'Wish I were,' hear me purr)
the cat who ate the canary
or that got the cream
but until I do I'll catch some z's
lose myself in whimsy drift away and dream
She flickers in the glass—
a glitch of golden déjà vu,
The paint strokes—bright, wild yellow,
but no warmth leak through.
I sometimes reach
for her dimming leaves
that hum against my skin then disappear.
I pull back and smell
ash, when nothing’s charred.
There were twelve petals yesterday,
now, only eleven.
I wake up and count again.
Still eleven,
or maybe
none.
(I’m not sure if I’ve woken,
even though I know
I tasted salt from my tears.)
Mother says we never got a dog.
But I remember—
the texture of his leather collar,
the white fur tickling my nose.
The sky runs—
watercolor pulled too far.
I check the time:
9:42 AM.
Then I open my eyes.
4:08.
She’s still there,
scorched
into my nightstand—
brushing mirage into my vision.
_______________
Inspired by Vincent Van Gogh's sunflowers, which I cannot seem to stop thinking about.
Sheer sweet delights appear as gossamer nets,
unseen, unheard, not felt with no regrets,
floating on puffs of wind to catch in your hair
before you care to know that they are there.
The warmth of dawn at sunrise.
The laughter of glints in eyes.
The taste you get before you bite.
The jolt of cold feet bare at night.
The déjà vu clicks down memory lane.
The heartbeat lilt before you kiss again.
The wind foreseen in quiver of leaves.
The thunder felt before heard in eaves.
The stings on a cheek as snow flakes land.
The sneaky touch of child's hand-in-hand.
So let the sheer ephemeral delights come,
to see what taste, feel, hear and see, can become
when you set your awareness alertness on high,
to savor the kiss of bliss that floats on by.
A crescent moon dangles in the distance,
whilst meteors jet across Prussian blue heavens,
leaving trails of grey ash in their wake.
An abnormal, elongated silence creeps through threadbare trees,
as an imperceptible breeze skims past my hair,
causing, for just a second, déjà vu—
a flutter between my muffled heart and a crushing ribcage
jolts me back.
Never-ending, frayed nerves keep me on edge;
the taste of insufferable copper taints my tongue.
Spitting it out—only for it to return,
haunting me like your last words,
replicating, repeating nightmares,
eating into my wailing brain.
That night: the broken glass,
shattered mirrors, overturned tables,
blood-sheathed floors—
became our point of no return.
déjà vu signals time does not exist ~
discard then oh hermit, your to do list
Hang on, You're nearly There!
I'm giddy, spinning around,
So near, yet so far.
On the slippery spinning
dip of serendipity.
Making do with the hoodoo of déjà vu.
I've seen that scene before!
On endless recycles
of somewhere when and there.
My prospectus is shod
with slithery wooden clogs.
Tripping, toppling precipitous,
edging ever closer to flying
right off the roundabout
by the whirling surge.
Whizzing around in circles
on the impending.
Barely holding on
with hands and arms,
billowing and centrifuging
in the passing wind.
Reaching outstretched to catch
just what and when,
could be just happening,
could be just passing on by.
Candles burn,
incense glows,
as music plays and fires blaze.
The scent of you... Déjà vu.
Your silhouette
is mesmerizing,
hypnotizing me.
Enchanting eyes,
seductive smile.
Your gentle touch, almost too much.
My body burning, my soul yearning.
Salacious lips
whisper words,
bewitching me
Bodies entwine,
Hearts hammer.
My soul succumbs to passions drums.
Black satin skies, sweet, sated cries.
Worlds collide,
stars explode.
Loves unleashed.
How often we visit a place and feel that we have been there before in a past life.
Quote by poet.
I went to France for the very first time and decided to go exploring,
the girl at the hotel told me about the beautiful woods that were nearby.
She gave me a map and I got in my hire car and drove a short distance,
I arrived at the woods and parked the car; there wasn’t a soul about.
I put on my walking boots and headed for the entrance to the woods,
a strange feeling came over me, like someone had stepped on my grave.
I tried to shrug it off, but it kept niggling me, I carried on walking and knew
before I heard it that there was a huge waterfall at the bottom of the hill.
I felt really spooked by it, and I asked myself, have I been here before?.
Déjà vu
On certain rainy afternoons
I smell anamnestic perfumes
love... axiom or incarnation!
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