A gleam of dawn`s light,
Shining from the inner self
Guides to path that`s right;
Forsaken, our life`s journey
Is bound to tempestuous seas.
It cannot be seen,
As the cool breeze on eyesight
Or the air we breathe,
Yet hope brightens winter nights
And banishes deepest frights.
When loads feel heavy
And burdens press on the soul,
A soft ember glows,
Secrets that the divine keep,
Whisper, "You can make it whole."
It`s the quiet hum,
That beats within every breast,
A gentle, soft pulse;
When all other sounds are numb,
Hope calls the spirit from rest.
A boat on the sea
With whirling wild winds on sight,
Yet reaches shore safe;
A flame ever shining bright
Draws light from a divine site.
It`s a feel within,
For summer to be on way,
For cold to turn warm;
When winter wind is at hand
Spring shine wouldn`t be far away.
A refrain unheard,
That lingers in the thin air,
A vision unseen;
A wish expressed from the heart
Turns to solace everywhere.
A thin thread of grace,
Guiding us through darkest hours,
With plea to the wind;
A smile on a weary face,
Turns a bud to smart flowers.
The silver moon ascends the cloudless sky
With scintillating stars stretching up high,
But sleep strangely slides away from my eyes,
I stare at the room`s darkness with a sigh.
My thoughts like restless high tide waves do roam
Far from the stark solitude of my home,
Wandering in the expanse of the night,
Lost in the lengthy shadows of dim light.
I softly read a page and read it more,
Hoping to slowly drift to slumber's shore,
But words just waltz, they do not seem to cease,
Denying me a moment's quiet peace.
On such nights when sleep turns to tasks in vain
I try means that will soothe away my strain,
Restore peace to my mind and inner self
By striving to reach the depth of myself.
By lying on bed, I breathe in and out
To clear from my mind any haze of doubt,
With palms flat, for each short while holding breath,
When soon tired, I fall asleep at a stretch.
The inner self is a clean lake,
Reflects blue of the sky,
Even when we sleep, it`s awake
And marks a divine tie.
It is ever clear bright
Leads on the path of light
Mirrors the truth upright.
Let`s not the inward depth forsake,
The inner self is a clean lake.
War
Brewing
On the verge
With one own self
Mirror tells no lies
Staring back in despair
Heart races with time in hope
The demon in me does not wake
From the deep slumber of my conscience
Breaking the shackles of my remorse
To prey on the less suspecting
And rejoice at their anguish
Avenging every scar
Inflicted on me
And returning
To dust; Yields -
To death;
Peace.
In my passing thoughts
I grind and grim on woes and props
To my declining travels and vested glees
I pay homage to vices bought
In forgiveness i seek but not to learn
I thumb through my "book of life "
Until i find that page I'm willing to turn
For to rip out and burn
While no shame is ever considered
Debts cannot be erased
I will challenge my past
And with courage i can face
How silly was to defy appearance and belief
to make others happy and imitate their own;
swimming in dangerous waters requires strength
when tides rise and all thoughts turn to death:
there's rarely a survivor, who hangs on a reef
as violent waves batter and faces show a frown.
If I procrastinate ideas is because I lack confidence,
filling each void with aspirations which are too brittle
to withstand the fury of a malicious rebuke
hurled by a hand I did not hold for insolence.
to reveal my inner self the humblest pride.,
even naive jokes got me upset enough to puke.
It's not wise to confide in dorks, they'll laugh it off,
their intention is mock and humiliate a troubled soul;
keep secrets to yourself, put effort toward your goal
of being admired, not mortified for actions that scoff.
Ah, give them a big glass of scotch and they'll forget scorn!
Ah, mock their defiant character, not as noble as a unicorn!
Inner Self
Inner self
For ever
Is my elf
Everyday
I meet it
On the way
It leads me
To right path
Hassles free
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Lost
The sun sinks low, the shadows grow,
No moon is out up high,
A chilling breeze begins to blow,
With stars up in the sky;
I wearily wade my way in vain
Across serpentine lanes of a forest,
Speckled with thick thorns and thickets,
But each time tumble at the same spot;
My heart is sore with seams of strains,
I feel lost in the night,
My feet are tinging with deep pains,
No pathway greets my sight.
Most of the trees seem to sneer at me,
Some to snarl like wild woeful winds
Treating the spot as their enclave,
A guarded setting of their own;
A voice soon whispers in my ears,
A voice from inner self:
“Move straight without a grain of fear,
And steer ahead yourself.”
A mirror isn't just a frame,
A sheet of glass that speaks your name.
It shows your image. Yes, it's true–
But now the whole of what is you.
It doesn't bend, it doesn't fake,
It captures truths you cannot break.
But mirror hide in the other forms–
In quiet thoughts, in silence storms.
In words that bruise, in eyes that know,
In shadows you still fear to show.
Not every mirror dare to shine–
some show the crack you called divine.
So ask yourself what mirrors mean–
They’re more than Polished, silver, clean.
They’re, everything that lays you bare–
Your secret grief, your silent prayers,
The mirror speaks without a sound–
It sees the soul where truth is found.
~hira~
A mirror isn't just a frame,
A sheet of glass that speaks your name.
It shows your image. Yes, it's true–
But now the whole of what is you.
It doesn't bend, it doesn't fake,
It captures truths you cannot break.
But mirror hide in the other forms–
In quiet thoughts, in silence storms.
In words that bruise, in eyes that know,
In shadows you still fear to show.
Not every mirror dare to shine–
some show the crack you called divine.
So ask yourself what mirrors mean–
They’re more than Polished, silver, clean.
They’re, everything that lays you bare–
Your secret grief, your silent prayers,
The mirror speaks without a sound–
It sees the soul where truth is found.
Adrift in sweet reverie while composing my journal
I sense myself wandering streets in solemn austerity
'Tis such a blunt shift from my usual musings nocturnal
To what do I owe this odd disturbing disparity?
In this vision I plod narrow alleys austere
A familiar dream within I-him I'm now aware
Presently it has become abundantly clear
We are one, he and I, as our souls we bare
In a flash the scene shifts to daybreak vernal and bright
In calm balmy bliss on guitar Bassa nova I-he strum
Dark angry clouds lift, azure clouds gleam bright
from whence have these diverse me phantoms come?
With a will I submit to my encyclopedia self
as inner projection reveals the multitudes I contain
Much more engaging than the one-I volume gathering dust on the shelf
My enigmatic space-time selves shall always remain
In the Shadow of Sunlight
In the shadow of sunlight, I do tread
On my journey alone, but not lonely
As solitude I do not fear or dread,
But cherish as a boon dear and homely.
In the shadow of sunlight, I do lie
In my garden in the shade of a tree
With the mind longing to fly to the sky
In search of a realm where the soul is free.
In the shadow of sunlight, I am spurred
To peer beyond the veil to scan the truth,
The inner self that lies deeply cluttered
And needs to be liberated since youth.
In the shadow of sunlight, comes my muse
My soul with poetic flame to infuse.
Which version of yourself, do you regard the best?
Which version of yourself, well and truly beats the rest?
Which version of yourself, would you prefer to be?
Which version of yourself, should the world not see?
Each day of your life is a chance to improve,
Each day of your life there should be nothing you need to prove,
Each day of your life you can smile and show love,
Each day of your life we should thank our lucky stars above.
Think on others less fortunate than thee,
Think on others whose lands they need to flee,
Think on others if you complain this is not paradise,
Think on others who might swap their life for yours, at any price.
Which version of yourself might you like to see?
Which version of yourself are you going to be?
We come to life without a choice,
And soon we start to have a voice.
We learn to be so very nice,
And we prepare to pay the price.
When we advance in age and mind,
We also learn to be as kind
To us, yes us, for all we know,
And care for us so as we grow.
If we love all so much and well,
We should love us so much as well.
The self inside does live on care
So, care for it and be as fair.
My height hurts my height,
I mean of freedom,
freedom in any angle,
mainly for my inner self.
Unjustly treated height,
opportunities between my fingers,
anger conquering my heart,
hurting that right of love,
mercilessly.
The time is near,
for heights to faint
and have no more control,
over love, trust and opportunities,
through sacrifices, sweat
and sweet fruits.
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