I killed my hope within me
And found it quite stillborn.
I let my anger sway me
And met the perfect storm.
My vessel looks unaltered,
My future seems assured,
But destiny has faltered.
Intent is unsecured.
My every motion runs
Away into the night.
My agitation shuns?
The still small voice of right.
No weapon comes so ready
And willing to the hand
Than that which will unsteady
The ground on which I stand.
Christopher M. Swan 2008
My existence speaks of roses
I'm blood
Breath of thrones.
It speaks the essence of my soul.
I pour oils on my skin
Scented like unripe spring flowers.
But the essence stays unaltered.
Veils of softness don't soothe the hurting.
Stabbing.
Like a midst of a sunset or autumn.
When death murmurs colorful lullabies
And soothes us with warmth
Into another life
Melting clocks on branches of thought, dripping seconds into the ocean,
My consciousness—a whirl of shadows and lights dancing chaotically,
Seeking the truth hidden behind the wax masks of reality.
Words collapse like autumn leaves, leaving silence behind,
Stripping away layers of artificial knowledge, illusory certainties,
Until I stand naked before the boundless mirror of existence.
I discover that truth is not a treasure to be found, but a veil to be lifted,
From the eyes of a mind weary from so much futile searching outward,
When all that was needed was to look inward, into the void full of whispers.
I unfold like a lotus flower under the moonlight,
Petal by petal, I let go of false identities, of roles played,
Until only the pure essence remains, unaltered by time and thought.
In this profound silence, I hear for the first time the melody of truth,
A song without notes, a symphony of the creative void,
And I understand that awakening is not a journey, but a return home.
On the edge of a world unfolding like a softly whispered dream,
half inside, half outside, its center remains unshaken.
This is the woman who knows the depths of her being,
emerging from within like a flame that knows no cold.
She carries her soul like a sacred, untouched temple,
protecting her essence from shadows trying to dance around her.
She finds her strength within, like a root piercing the earth,
she knows she will triumph, that in life's battle she will always have the drive.
When she looks at the sea with its waves in crescendo,
she knows she can face the storm, turning her face towards the sun,
seeking happiness in the rising light, in the life that surrounds her.
She distances herself from the darkness, from sunsets that bring only coolness.
She wishes to bathe only in pure light,
keeping shadows and demons at bay.
She guards her essence, keeping her peace like armor,
fleeing from all that is evil, in search of the celestial smile.
Half inside, half outside, but always centered,
she knows the truth about herself, her path unaltered.
The women sing songs to the moon,
Praising its beauty.
They dance and sing when it’s in its full glow,
Their souls ascending and descending,
Transformed into priestesses.
The men venture into the forest at twilight every fortnight.
There, an unveiling and a revealing take place.
The spirits commune with them in the tranquil ambience,
Warning them about any impending danger,
Sharing mysteries that are soon to enter their territory.
The men become gifted watchmen.
Something astonishing happens with the sun.
At midday, it beams its rays on a vast meadow,
Where the plants are exuberantly green.
These are called the Blessed Bloom,
An elixir of vitality and rejuvenation.
The atmosphere is clean and fresh.
There is no conflict between humans and machines,
No exploitation of nature,
No encroaching on her space.
The leash has not taken the lead.
I asked to know where I am,
And I met a stranger who looked familiar.
He said I’m in an unsoiled place,
An unaltered place,
An alternate universe.
April 8, 2025.
The Great Man is like an ice mountain, cold and unwavering, fearless of opinion,
Devoid of virtues that accompany the respect and respectability of the herd,
If he cannot lead, he walks alone on the rough paths of his destiny,
Knowing he is ineffable, he tastes the bitterness of unshared intimacy.
When not speaking to himself, he wears an impenetrable and mysterious mask,
Within him exists an inaccessible solitude, untouched by praise or criticism,
In this silence, he finds the strength to never hesitate,
And in this isolation, he discovers his pure and unaltered essence.
Like a solitary stag in the forest of thoughts, he follows his path,
Without seeking familiarity, he finds the bitter taste of truth,
He is a soul dancing on the edge of a misunderstood world,
Where the echoes of the herd cannot penetrate his depths.
The Great Man is like a star in the infinite night, shining far away,
Misunderstood by the crowd, but blinding in his own unique light,
In this distance, he discovers the freedom to truly be himself,
And in this vast and silent space, he finds his eternity.
For the inducement of the compulsive being
the transmuting tenet of uniqueness,
the personified indebted identity
changes appearance in self-designed colour melange,
while the conjured chameleon furtively cocooned,
paints the shifting facade of deception,
as the languid life chases the transient mirage.
Out of the limelight, the clandestine colors
on the visage of made-up memory fade away,
the pallid psyche morphs mystically into
the veracity mirror of fragile actuality,
reflecting the filtered rendering of primal hues' motif
of unaltered distinctive disposition it embodied once.
The lattice of contrived perception
designs the improvised fabric of truth.
The metamorphic mind creates the deluding elements,
resonating the echo of resounding insight,
filtered by its own transformed innate screen,
completes the paradigm shift of illusive reality.
A world so far yet so close
A sea of sand that shall always slide trough your hands
With the grip of a new born you learned to let go
Things are unchanged and unaltered
Your ancestors pain is yours
Their love, their dreams is your existence
And just like you they learned to let go
The light that reached the corner of their eyes
The light that showed them everything they needed to see
Is the light that shall bathe you and purify you
I wish to see myself again and again
And make the hardest of choices.
Unaltered
One’s true self
Altered in Faith
To be your best
Emotions… memories
Unaltered, without peace
Altered in Faith
Emotions and memories
Are boxed and put away
Unaltered
Will return another day
Keep the Faith
Copyright January 2024
We look for that that does not come and go,
It cannot be organic form, subject to decay.
Thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know,
Yet come what may, our inner child continues to play.
In the quiet of our minds, where secrets softly whisper,
Echoes of our truest selves, hidden deep within.
Like a constant, gentle river, pure and clearer,
Reflecting the essence that lies beneath our skin.
Amidst the chaos of the world, ever-changing, ever-new,
Our core remains steadfast, a beacon in the night.
An unchanging truth, authentic and true,
Guiding us forth, through darkness to light.
In the mirror of the soul, beyond the physical sight,
Lies the unaltered spirit, untouched by time's flight.
Here in this sanctuary, where our fears take flight,
We discover who we are, in the stillness of the night.
Who are we at our core, if not an eternal flame?
Burning bright with hope, love, and dreams untamed.
In this journey of self, no two paths are the same,
Yet in every heart, the core's light remains unclaimed.
Your version of sober is not mine,
I do not blame you I blame culture;
Wasted words you will not remember,
probably better to stay silent;
For me an unaltered state is fine,
that’s not for everyone I am sure;
I’d rather not end up hung over
I would like to talk about time spent;
You are claiming clean on that bender,
my definition was never bent.
Peter’s off again to job interview (second round, in Geneva), he was only here two days but something of him remained behind. Oh, fingerprints for sure - but memories too - like scattered Christmas wrappings - or a poem:
Ok, gimme me your best day, take your best shot at perfection.
Our minds take experiences and press them grape-like,
into the intoxicating liquor of memory.
The vivid ones linger - unaltered - like youthful Internet mistakes forever posted.
Someday to beckon us back, teasingly - like bright, neon signage.
We live in a world
Brim full of uncertainty
Yet some things are set
Unaltered by humanity.
Science has laws
Which we did not make
Instead we defined them
And make no mistake
We may have rules
And constants and such
But science is in charge
And we own it so much.
But as we developed
And grew year on year
We became sophisticated
Learnt to engineer.
Harnessing science
To do what we need
Mass growth industry
Enabled us to breed
Rapid development
Coming out of the gloom
Engineering meets science
The industrial boom!
We live in a world
Brim full of uncertainty
Yet some things are set
Unaltered by humanity.
Science has laws
Which we did not make
Instead we defined them
And make no mistake
We may have rules
And constants and such
But science is in charge
And we own it so much.
But as we developed
And grew year on year
We became sophisticated
Learnt to engineer.
Harnessing science
To do what we need
Mass growth industry
Enabled us to breed
Rapid development
Coming out of the gloom
Engineering meets science
The industrial boom!
If only I could feel
Your magic touch
That I've longed for
For an eternity it seems
Feel the love
Pure and unaltered
By time by distance
A lasting forever love
That has taken over
My very heart and soul
My whole being
Oh how I wish
This fervent wish
Could somehow be real
Suddenly
You are here beside me
We touch, we cry
We lose ourselves in love
Totally oblivious
Totally enraptured
This feeling has taken
Over every part of me
Why have I been blessed
Why do I question it
You have returned to me
My dearest, my sweetest
My whole world suddenly
Is bright again
With much more meaning
I am overwhelmed
You are my love of loves
I'm your “Sweet Man”
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