Aren’t we ruled by the Unknown
Isn’t it bloody obvious?
Minds we used to deem our own
Do they still belong to us?
Via progress we regress
Open up the news - I bet
The next minute you digress:
“Why on earth I need all that?”
Everything looks predetermined
Everyone plays politician
Set your rule, I won't confirm it
Don’t rely on my submission
I’m a trickster and a gambler
Bought and sold three times a day
Counting 20th of September
Happy Birthday, anyway…
In dreams the interface between known
And unknown
Is as clear and simple as turning a card.
What was previously unknown
Becomes revealed,
The dream simply a series of such moments,
As the unconscious unfolds each moment.
Waking life is different,
More ambiguous as if consciousness
Is just the tip of a mountain above a sea of clouds,
So much unknown, but yet accepted as such,
A background sustaining what is
Merely personal and fleeting,
Our place in the world,
Our steps on the path we travel,
But all too often with uncertainty,
Certainly without the clarity of a dream
Unfolding with each ripe symbolic moment.
And then in life death comes,
The ultimate unknown
Revealed at last
Personal and fleeting, or
Universal and eternal…
Revealed but perhaps never grasped.
Such is the difference in dreams
And waking life,
Although both are clearly determined,
The unknown becomes the known,
And known the unknown,
In completely different way.
(8/31/26)
People create in all kinds of ways
Like other animals do
And in uniquely human ways.
And when we uniquely create
We open up
And the Universe opens too.
And between the two magic transpires.
Creation takes all shapes and forms
From single cells to complex structures
That can span millennia.
But when gates are open
And creation really flows
The bounds of time and space
Logic and reason
Are transcended
As if they are only figments
Of limited imagination.
And in transcendence
When the illusions of self and other
Have fallen away
As if they have never existed
What is left but play?
At play in the fields of the Lord
You may say
If there was a you
Left to form such an absurd thought. For
No self and no other needs and
Leaves no room for even a Lord
And its fields for play.
In the great unknown we are reminded
Knowing we are neither,
Both or other.
(8/30/26)
The city swallows up the lights,
The night spills gasoline,
I walk past the shopfronts —
Smoke is reflected in their glass.
Someone is shouting about love,
Someone is silent about war,
While I keep searching among them
For the one that burns in the dark.
Unknown star —
Who are you shining there for?
Maybe for those who are tired,
Or for those who never knew.
I raise my eyes —
The sky is like an old screen,
Someone is changing the plot,
But I play the game myself.
Let them say it’s only a dream,
Let them say I’ll never get there,
If my home goes dark,
I will be the light within.
Unknown star,
You won’t answer me “yes,”
But if the whole world falls apart —
You won’t go dark alone.
Author: Dmitry Lyubishkin
Trying to make me fall in love
Flying he came to me like a dove
Like Cupid, he shot his arrows at me
Unlike for others, I accepted them with glee
Thinking of becoming his dear wife
Winking I welcomed him into my life
Shower of love drenched us to the core
Our souls would never part, we both swore
Further into
Deeper unto
Loneliness; its chiller shade.
From here, behind
Not there, in front
Is this impression now made.
They, quizzing o'er
A mind's strange ways.
He, led by, reverences them!
Permits whose access
Peaceful rapport's.
Exudes, which spirit each stem.
Connection was strong at first.
Then the signal weakened.
Toot... toot...
The line became busy,
Until it was out of coverage.
So, not to disturb,
It was archived.
No more notifications.
No more waiting.
No more checking.
The promises
And the future they imagined
Became corrupted.
System failure.
Then...
Connection lost.
The error...
Was never her.
It was zero one two
Five nine three
To restart again... Then...
No more unknown errors
After the four one eight
The call ended.
She smiled.
The last good thing...
She shut down
The memories.
And finally...
She rebooted
Her life
Nine three eight six goodbye...
a free fervent feel
kindled by an unseen light~
friend that makes us heal
a fragile thread spun
holds the unknown, whispers hope~
trust what not yet won.
sunlight through the clouds,
a sudden warmth upon the face~
winds dispel the shrouds.
doubt's chill breeze may blow,
testing the weave, stretching out~
still, the string does glow
night stollers alone
guided by a distant glow~
belief in unknown
seeds beneath the soil
unseen growth, a patient wait~
life shines through one`s toil
when all seems vanished
when the path is lost to sigh~
guiding faith cherished
a gentle whisper,
across the vast and silent space~
trust turning crisper.
more than simple verse
a living, breathing essence~
holds the universe.
Birthstones and horoscopes over a chi-square
Months with periscopes everywhere
Moon and Sun in shaded segments
Boon and pun in braided alignments
Spells and pleas yowling in the wilderness
Wells or seas swigging in emptiness
Thoughts wandering around
Droughts and dryness seething in a playground
Warmth or heat you nestled from scorching daylight
Cold air or dew drop sighed by moonlight
Wall clock that restricts your borrowed time
Or unseen counter that predicts your stolen dime
Each day that passes by
All day you ask without a bye
Each night that crawls in the dark
All your might you grope behind a scalded bark
Shadows that follow you
Wedge pillows you never had that haunt you
Tales in dreams that smother you
Puzzles in reams that harrow you...
Why bother when there's none to fear?
Fear only God who's able to hear
Your qualms will never leave you
Only until you believe they're never yours that weave you!
“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”
— Thomas Gray, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
Well known or not, we write our poetry
Our inner souls reflected in our ink
Also influenced by our family tree
We every now and then cause some to think
The years pass by and then away we go
Well known are some, but others not so much
‘Tis easier to honor those we know
While unknowns by the wayside fall as such
Each unknown poet lived a real life too
Their love of verse sprang from their dear hearts’ wells
Their memory forgotten, but still true
For remembrance and respect we ring the bells
This tribute to an unknown poet’s life
Shows that we care and mitigates our strife
Before the mountains learned to rise,
Before the oceans found their tides,
Tiny travelers crossed the night,
Carried softly on cosmic light.
Particles born in distant stars,
Wandered far beyond the scars
Of ancient suns that burned away,
Leaving whispers in their wake.
They drifted through the silent deep,
Where galaxies and comets sleep,
Until the Earth, with open skies,
Welcomed them to a new sunrise.
They settled in the soil below,
In rivers where the wild things grow,
In every leaf and every stone,
Planting seeds yet to be known.
Through countless years they changed their form,
Enduring calm and weathered storm,
Becoming roots, becoming rain,
Becoming life again and again.
Within each heart, within each mind,
Their stellar fingerprints we find;
A hidden story, old and vast,
Connecting future to the past.
And from those fragments of the skies,
New dreams awakened, opened eyes.
What once was dust in endless space
Became a voice, a name, a place.
So when we seek what we may be,
Look upward to infinity—
For every wonder yet to bloom
Began as stardust finding room.
Mind winding
Blade twisting
Always here but so distant
Nothing more then a rock in the pavement
Always wondering when ill get my payment
Letting go slowly then rising right after
Why am i stuck in this cold hot shower
Stuck in missing things so dire
Often ending up stranded with a flat tire
Then playing with wires sometimes creating something new
Sometimes wishing itd start a fire
Without any burning desire
Will i die or will i rise in this fire
Why even bother messing with it
When it always finds a way to you out of the blue
Always feeling to loose never in place
Like a broken window or picture frame
Where the memories stay in place but nothing changes
Always ending up shattered and scattered
Mentally screaming and pleading
That the cycle wont keep repeating
I know i should be ok but how when everything eventually falls down
Oh just how i wish i knew how
We run toward fleeting images,
Symbols of the night
With which we know no reason.
Driven clearly by a sense of need,
Our thoughts confused.
Rational mixed with desire.
Night acts in concealed images of shadow
Proudly showing us where to look.
Teaching us what we need to know.
Night, known for its darkened reason,
Exhibits simple themes of perfect release
As it shows us the direction to run.
Ritual instincts strive for recognition,
To join with the familiarity of routine thought.
We run toward mirages in the night.
Cool breeze reminds us that love is not lost
With the setting of the sun
Behind the trees that catch these sparkling words.
The western wind stings our eyes
And brings us fragrance of winter pine.
Safely giving just what we crave.
We learn to know this is true,
A faith we have come to believe
As we run toward mirages in the night.
Time and time again night lets us try
And then helps plan our final escape
As we run toward mirages in the night.
This poem first appeared in Withering Words Magazine, 2026, all rights reserved
A small path I see,
Inviting me with silent plea.
Yet unwelcoming are its looks,
Like the warnings in forgotten books.
The eerie silence that I feel,
Though surrounded by vibrant green,
Makes me wonder what is real,
And what this place might truly mean.
What could I do?
For it makes me shoo.
Yet despite its unpleasantness,
I find myself walking.
Wondering what I was thinking,
Yes—walking into it.
Moving forward are my feet,
Though I have no control of it.
Though my mind rejects,
My body projects
A will that is not my own,
Leading me deeper, alone.
All I could do was hope,
For I could find no rope
To hold onto,
No sign of my presence,
No reminder of my essence.
The hum of the tyres,
the rhythmic tempo
of moving legs, the hypnotic
gaze into the blur of roadway
passing beneath a wheel,
seemed to send the mind
into a kind of trance.
It was a doorway into
a state that rode
the laneways of dream.
There were times I felt
as if I floated above the road
and was convinced that
if I closed my eyes
and gave all to trust,
I could enter into
another world.
Yet, I found
I had not the faith
and would open my eyes
and snap back
into the effort and ache
of my body, feel
the bump and shake
of riding over uneven ground.
Now, a lifetime on,
if I could snatch
that moment back
and be that boy on the bike
once again barrelling down
the laneways of a dream,
I would close my eyes,
keep them shut
and peddle like hell
into the unknown.
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