a sugar maple leaf slips free
counting toward One proof
the Seven Mysteries
God, I count prime gaps
I watch prime numbers growing
only primes orbit
a rule sends one step
loops return periods double
recursion counts One
an iteration
within fluid smoothness frays
water turns inward
can you see the curve
study elliptic rank shifts
findings test the rank
questions spiral out
unknown patterns circle back
pi bends into sight
a proof can be checked
still search cannot prove it now
checking outruns search
every loop turns east
the count folds back into form
through form, God's Haiku
the sugar-maple leaf settles on frost
children of the corn start to awaken
Eternally, eternally all clocks unwind;
To be rewound — a life untethers to be re-bound
Old eyes forget the forewarnings wisdom teaches;
They widen to look anew where experience beseeches
Set sail into the ancient light anew—
Adrift upon a mirrored sea of stars and lulling waves,
Rocking steadily and toward an enlightened litany
Of ideas and shapes that mould us as we wake,
In loving arms and eyes that behold us
And each little breath we take,
One new timid star, shining amongst so many,
Outshine and out-reach the distant rims;
Cast an urging light for our daunted whims
Held in check by the shackled limbs,
The instilled deprecation that dims.
And let my eyes unbind, aglitter—
The horizonal-line—
Trans-destine—
And free.
An iteration—
A fantasy—
Adream midst destiny—
A new you, a new me.
In a world of festivities, we prioritize the frivolous,
Elevating Valentine's Day, a celebration quite dubious.
February 14th, a day assigned to love's display,
Yet, I refute this notion, for love should be everyday.
In my culture, this celebration reeks of absurdity,
Promoting premature sexuality, a moral calamity.
Should we allocate a day for love's celebration?
Does this imply we've been fostering hatred in iteration?
Even young learners, grades 6 and above, are caught,
In the web of crushes, a trend that's quite distraught.
In Africa, hotel rooms are booked, a Valentine's spree,
Teenagers dominate, leaving one to ponder the decree.
Are we more Catholic than the Pope, in our fervor and zeal?
Valentine's Day, a celebration that love's true meaning does conceal.
So, if you choose to celebrate, do so with reverence and might,
Upholding cultural heritage, and the sanctity of love's light.
Let organizations, schools, and families unite,
Educating teenagers on the dangers of sexual abuse, a love that's not right.
Riding the spiraling clockwork of reality again –
Off to the sky, beyond the clouds…
And the revolutions grow faster, but, slowly, I begin to perceive their pattern.
I am a slow learner, but I have been given the gift of time.
Bittersweet elixir of life: unfulfilled desires and unrecognized gifts,
Kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain.
Already, I have dreamt 10,000 dreams.
I am no prophet, but I believe I shall dream 10,000 more.
Learning to ride the tornado of time,
The whirlpool of reality,
The infinite gyre.
2024-05-10
Darkness, shadows, raining, storming.
I liked to pretend I perfectly crafted these bleak, tired ideas.
When I was a stupid kid.
As if no one has ever drawn a picture in pencil, so that there is no color.
As if there is no piece of art that is gray with rain in the background that anyone would care about.
I guess I just like to recycle the same, boring concepts.
Just letting my mind tumble, over and over.
Letting each iteration wear me out slightly more each time.
Drawing more lazily and sloppily with time.
So they will realize that I’m suffering, but in a cool new way.
But no.
The teacher always picks the drawings with a sun in the corner and smiling families.
Those are the kids that everyone likes.
That’s why I always carried a sketch pad.
And never tore anything out.
WORDS
unbridled
so beguiling
absorbed
as thoughts
to inspire
for guidance
to take flight
that disrupts
& rising
to the surface
in
retrospective
imagined
pleasure
so
infectious
&
intriguingly
interpretated
improvise an
iteration
to contemplate
intact
in
visual expression
Look for love in your heart
I'm leaving you with:
Someday you will recognize
Some breakups are doomed.
Today I can be an unfulfilled poet
Snoring and heartlessness
alike star at night
without its dense knots
Even if it is a short iteration,
bouncing over time and space
It will only be a matter of perception
to see and be seen
To appear to be bluntly clear.
Written: March 1st, 2023
Tao clears mind myriad
Hears gurgled stream trickle
Rejuvenating ease of river
Impels an outlook simple
Verdant steppes imperial
Embrace ouroboros cycle
Joined tail to mouth control
Overcomes chaotic combat
Yin Yan hug in completeness
Temple of self empty vessel
Approaches each hour in Wu Wei
Jaws of serpent ensure return
Iteration eats its tail
Tadpole twirled stronghold
Unhurried harmonious spiral
February finding out
Oh, the story of my mind
If I am silent
I can hear the stars
just to catch his twinkle
a little of his flicker
a lifetime of tyranny and hardship
and freedom
then another iteration of the same cycle
when I'm in winter
you have the spring
will you whisper to me of its warmth?
that warmth.
Written: January 13, 2023
Life is a day that starts with the glimmers and glows of sun.
Those colours become brighter, progressing like when you first learned to run.
The hours pass ‘till the morning just like the years before you became. Fate is time’s little fool, you don’t get one without the other in life’s little game.
Soon your hours get longer, lost in the shadows of the midday sun.
Here you feel the power of what you are at the peak of your magnificence, your undoubted one.
The twelve hours now in the second iteration are without your permission spun. Youth lost like the petals of a flower after rain and wind has done.
Wisdom through age gathered now holds court when answers don’t want to come. The questions you leave unanswered because you don’t want to see what your youth has become.
Soon you’re in your last six hours of the day that is your life. Do you whine, curse, moan about your lost time, your lost dreams you know: ‘what you could have been or done’? Or do you intend to live those hours longer than the eighteen before was done? Live the minutes by the second and make each second a different one.
All iteration
Is insistent
The instant
One imagines
The immaculate
Implied by one's
Own imagination.
Oh! THOU art lost and gone perhaps forever
By equi-vocal pronoun now replaced
Where once were I and THOU in shared endeavour
Abandoned and neglected left to waste
Since THOU departed there’s a missing piece
Within the language where we speak of love
A vacuum in syntax of our caprice
Where once we two combined as hand in glove
For it’s surmised that each communication
Must be between two single souls that be
Though there be multitude of iteration
I only speak to thee and thou to me
So come THOU back in thy pellucid essence
Enhance truth and grace in language with thy presence
Similarity
fractal science Points
to the activity of finite mind..
our limited mind
is a fractal iteration
wishing to be Whole:
finding similarity
through mind's lens of
sameness and difference..
the outdoors obliges with its
cloud formations and
nature's majestic trees..
this is the true Self
experience..the glimpses
of sameness amid
manifestation's chaotic
plethora of difference..
or with more accuracy:
our lens discovers Nature's
sameness..temporarily
appearing as colored
with nature's difference..
Love diffusion,
Love recursion.
Disobedient to the external world we remain,
Never expedient - our love - never going to detain,
The more memories we obtain,
More sweetness we gain.
Surrounded by LoveBirds
As our world lits,
Nonpareil in the universe, cognisance
Filled with the spectrum of our igniting consciece
Amorousness aroma drizzling through our soul so intense
Immaculate kiss mystic sense.
We are unique and thence optimistic,
Purely euphemistic.
Faith essence, mutual defense,
Upholding bless.
Enlighting grace,
From lovers embrace.
We are conspicuous by our entailing qualities,
Prosperous by our personalities
Forever connected entities,
Favoring our the inequalities.
Surpassing any misconseption,
With forgiveness iteration.
Love of art, the art of love,
You're my colorful art, my love.
My life. My rainbow, My sweety
For eternity.
Consciousness
sound
light
sight
touch
emotion
knowledge
focus
individual
interpretation
reaction
experience
knowledge
emotion
touch
sight
light
sound
consciousness
In one of all frequencies become
by sound
a word uttered in the exhaling
breathing inward Brahma
came to be
such intricate fastidious designed the mote
upon chords delivered
this vast determination
of self awakened
timeless
One note within the orchestra
created fulcrum shall be
aware I of
we
the witness
empathic
conscious
within axis
exists
a universe
Upon these lips language
spoken
awaken
now
to the vowel of love
in the image are thus created
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