I look at the sky as an ocean of freedom, a realm of boundless flight,
where birds sketch their destinies on the blue canvas of infinity,
and I wonder why I remain where wings are just unlived dreams,
but the mirror shows me the answer, a truth hidden deep in my heart,
for my wings were never broken, just taught not to open.
Every time they flutter, a voice whispers to me of gravity,
of duties and guilts dressed in the cloak of false love,
carrying in my chest cages built from old promises and unspoken rules,
their doors have always been open, but fear shouted louder than the wind.
I have grown roots in places I should have left long ago,
I called them loyalty, I called them home, but they were just the comfort of familiar pain,
and now, I lift my gaze to the sky with longing, not because I cannot fly,
but because I have not yet learned to believe I deserve to be among the stars.
In the realm where desire and love meet,
Paths open, intertwining into endless labyrinths,
Each trail bearing the burden of dreams and untamed longings,
For love may begin as a gentle whisper of a spring,
While desire, like a storm, rushes in with force,
Both dreaming of the same destination, but on turbulent roads.
Just as adventures are written from unknown steps,
Love and desire grow, rise, and fall,
A journey where the soul expands towards the heavens,
Or gets lost in abysses of restlessness and fire,
There is no single path, nor a single beginning,
For love and desire dance in eternal circles,
In the most sublime moments or the deepest crises,
Weaving their stories in the dark corners of the heart.
On the edge of each moment, we stand in contemplation,
Wondering where love ends and desire begins,
When they coexist in that fragile yet splendid balance,
In a silent symphony that carries us through the whirlwind of life,
And beyond words, in those secret moments,
We discover that love and desire are two wings of the same dream,
Flying over the boundaries of time and space,
In a never-ending quest for fulfillment and self-discovery.
In the same realm where the flight of birds once lifted me high,
Now my wings are broken, and their song is but a whisper,
A symphony once, now a cold wind through dried branches,
The trills, balm for the heart, become echoes of pressing silence.
The trees change colors like fragmented dreams,
A palette reflecting my stagnation in frozen time,
The wind, messenger of secrets, blows without touching my soul,
Flowers lose their fragrance in the monotony of a day without novelty.
The lands where I ran with a free spirit,
The waterfalls under which I felt the thrill of life,
Friends with whom I laughed, now just pale shadows,
Dancing on the stage of a memory slowly fading away.
Broken, blurred images reflect my face in the mirror of time,
I no longer count the wasted moments, for they will extinguish within me,
Like passion dying under the weight of survival,
Dreams swallowed by the unforgiving demands of life.
Your soul cries for lost caution, an echo of childhood,
You must smile, for you'll become a resigned adult,
Learning to get used to this dance of life,
Where you embrace loss like an old acquaintance.
simply observing waves
arising and subsiding
we feel God’s presence
within each pulse hiding
lower mind is rested
so no meanings are assigned
to play of life in motion
by soul’s eye divined
as the vital force
benign bliss magnetism
we witness all refractions
in body-mind prism
thus as both this and that
in time our heart is thawed
our soul lotus blossoms
upon giving love our nod
As she raised her translucent, fairy’ish wing, allowing the moonbeams to pass through
the chiffon fluttered gleefully waving to the lightening bugs,
‘twas then the magic began;
To behold such elegance amidst the night
Caused me to ponder the fate of her, will you stay, dear sir?
Can a sight this luxurious continue to last I wondered while observing
the interchange ‘tween delicate nymph and luminous creatures,
there they played their silent game;
I cannot tell when they finally ended
Their most infectious conversation, but what elation!
In a realm of tranquil illusions, weary spirits find thrones of comfort,
Lives frozen in monotonous dances, dolls forgotten in the windows of dead time,
Middle-aged souls, ghosts of lost hope, nestle into routine,
The leaden embrace of stagnation promises them an eternity of divine peace.
Deep within the soul, fear sneaks in like an underground stream,
The fear that fragile order is a sandcastle, a vain illusion,
They retreat into mental bunkers, hiding their dreams and unspoken fears,
Hoping the walls of silence will keep change at bay, unspoken promises.
But time, a tireless sculptor, spins its chisel on the face of reality,
Each moment leaves a mark, a reminder of the ephemeral,
Stagnation is but an illusion, true life awaits beyond the walls,
Demanding the courage to step into the unknown, to emerge from labyrinths.
Between the walls of silence, souls sing the longing for freedom,
A yearning that pulses like a heart beneath resignation, beneath opacity,
Rays of light pierce through the cracks in the walls, reminding them of the river,
Life flows unceasingly, calling them to embrace their living destiny.
Time waits for no one. Isn’t that great?
If it waited on us, it would end up too late.
We think we’re the master of our time controlled realm,
But Time is the faster man at the helm.
What we witness now is already gone.
When? Where? and How? is the ultimate con.
When we’re young and naïve, we set ourselves up,
For we often believe we can measure the cup.
We sip and we dine never hearing the chime,
Never drawing the line between work and home time.
And what of the child we lose to the hours
Of days and months filed in Time’s secret towers?
We wake to each day. Isn’t it great?
And know we rely on Time’s ceaseless wake.
Take nothing for granted. Time is the king.
It’s what poets have ranted and what we all sing.
Life is for living. Don’t worry about time.
Ask what you’re giving. Hand someone a dime.
Keep hold of your dreams and be sure that you share.
Send loved ones some moonbeams, safe journeys through prayer.
“Time waits for no one” does not have to be
The mantra that traps you, but sets you free.
In a realm of shadows and fears, footsteps tread unceasingly,
Small fears like dried leaves gather beneath the steps of autumn,
I am not a person, but a lost dream, among desires and shivers,
I fear small, ordinary, human things, like a wandering stranger.
I love adventures, transformations flow like a river to the unknown,
Yet I resist when opportunity appears as a door ajar,
In vain I flee, for fear finds me, an echo of steps on a deserted road,
I have no choice but to look into its deep eyes, to find courage.
Fear is not the monster I believed, but an old friend, unrecognized,
It is the key that opens doors to freedom, to light,
I realize the irony in the question: where has fear been all my life?
What do I still avoid that could be of help, that could bring solace?
With each step, integrating fear, I become more myself,
I embrace the shadows like old acquaintances on my path,
They make my heart beat fast, I live each moment intensely,
I weave my destiny from thin threads of courage and acceptance.
I've never been a groupie, and I never ever shall be.
They mindlessly follow, no thought of their own.
They think what they're told, then call it the truth,
But I can't follow, I must think, no matter the cost.
But when I say what I think, they cry out, they resist.
If I try to explain, it only gets worse, they can't hear me.
They're comfortable in that place of absolute knowing.
While I flounder in the realm of wonder, forever thinking.
In the realm of dreams we wander,
Crafting worlds both bright and somber.
Lost in illusions we have spun,
Entwined with shadows, every one.
The dreamer crafts each fleeting scene,
Woven with whispers, soft, serene.
Yet dreams themselves hold mystic might,
Born from our thoughts, both day and night.
How do we wake from this deep trance?
When reality seems to dance?
Both creator and creation,
Bound by our own imagination.
The lines blur 'tween truth and lie,
As we navigate the surreal sky.
Seeking ourselves within the dream,
Hoping to unravel our scheme.
In a web of thoughts, we are bound,
Searching for truths yet unfound.
To awaken from our slumber deep,
We must find the secrets dreams keep.
Both dreamer and dreamed we remain,
In this enchanting, endless domain.
Breaking free, we hope to see,
A world where dreams and truth agree.
The silver moon rises full
in a benevolent glow...like a lamp
hanging from a ceiling of stars
and lights the stairs through a window
as we ascend to another world
filled with candles and fresh-cut roses
awaiting our entrance to this romantic realm
where we'll light each candle
so our hearts can see the intimacy of stillness
in our eyes
You slowly cross the room
and I bow to the fluid movement
of each curve of your body
your hands moving as if spinning a lover's web
my breath is captured, my eyes are captured
by a symphony of motion
tethered without fear to candlelight shades
that becomes a silhouette on the wall
in a timeless serenade of ardency
found in our moment of truth
where love abides by the shared silence
of devoted affection and dreamy misty eyes
draped in a scented balm of roses
that look deep into the soulful eyes of a lover
seeking the river of sighs
that flows under the bridge of trembling hearts
nourished by the emotional streams of love's existence
Asclepius, one cannot build from sand,
Such light and shifting grains as mortals be.
The wind and tide shall warp what e’er is planned,
Foundations fade before the pounding sea.
And yet, when grains of sand flow through my hand,
I smile at warmth and richness I know not.
Through falling columns have the sea I scanned,
As through a fog, and this the vision brought.
Once, weary, weary, weary on the sea,
One weary, wandering sailor, long away.
‘Tis torpor, tempest, tedium, weary he,
When wind-whipped waves whisk words on salty spray.
“Rain-hardened sailor, welcome now,
The ocean storms here mend their ways.
No lonesome mists embrace the prow,
Here glegful otters tend their bays.
This oaken isle, this Avalon,
O’er the futile, beating sea;
This dream-cast realm, this jewel at dawn,
Where thought is regal, talent free.
And here beyond the reach of might,
Where ancient tribal flaws decay,
With cobbled streets and spires alight,
New thought, new form, new love, hold sway.”
When whence these words surveyed had he,
Before his eyes a visage be.
‘Twas older than eternity,
That face that sank beneath the sea.
Girl I'm in the mood
I'm feeling the groove
I like your moves
Taking me to realm of fantasy
Because you're my muse
You steadily giving me inspiration
So I need your attention without pressure.
God bless me with you
You never play games
So I respect you
Your love is sweeter
Than palm wine
You always drive me crazy
Whenever you whine that waist, so magical.
Baby I like your magic
You're not systematic
Always automatic
You're authentic
God sent
I like your gist
It a leisure in disguise.
Out on the desert plains lived warriors long ago.
They lived their lives, running free, with no place left to go.
But they fought their enemies with the instinct to survive.
They fought their battles to be free so that they could live their lives.
So the warriors fought on forevermore listening to the voices cry.
There was no place left to run when it was.
their time to die.
The warriors were born to kill. They had risen to destroy
To fight the enemy and do God's will, or all was lost into the endless void.
And in the break of silence,the enemy came into their land
To fight the battle on the hill, their fate was in God's hands.
They fought for their moments of glory, for what they stood for.
The Battle of the Warriors of the Third Realm would live on forevermore
Sunflower blooms gold,
cradles fairy in fold.
Marvel allures dragonfly.
Charmed, it holds her hand.
In scene so grand,
bonds of fanciful love ramify.
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