Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Flipping coin

The crackle of clove and tobacco,
Ephemeral smoke wisping by.

In another place, another life, another time

The crack of dawn in the dusty sky,
Rubble shuffle 'neath soles run dry.

In another place, another life, another time

Shut eyes crack open amidst clean air,
The alarms ringing time to go.

In another place, another life, another time

A tear trails a crack down the cheek,
No time to sleep simply weeping.

In another place, another life, another time

A creaking pinprick of light from dark,
Last breath heaved as we depart.

...

Time alone is always golden. Solitude and loneliness the perfect reagent. What magic is weaved in lone reflection. The alchemy of the living heart in introspection. Space and time may fall apart, as the spirit wander with the heart. Guiding light of the Single star, for paths tread amid twilight. No soul as an audience to be found, except those whose bodies have been ground. In the darkness of the night, can the dimmed Light shine bright. With too many lights showing the way, where do we go, do they know the way? Shut out the lights run by Man, dive deep into water and desert sand. Time alone is always golden, take back what's yours that has been stolen.

Tuesday, January 09, 2018

Smoke and mirrors

Day in, day out. That seems to be the assumed and conventional mode of living. Somewhere along the way, the spark in an individual to grow, learn, experiment and explore has died. It's a scary thing, for me especially.

The liberties of life are afforded when we realize the temporal nature of our existence, the purpose of our external environment and the teachings of introspection. If not, we become disillusioned in our pursuit of a semblance of financial stability, as a means to happiness? I'm not sure. Our mind tunes out the sounds of our vast world and tunes to the frequencies that facilitate this pursuit.

Dreams flutter out of existence and ambitions are beaten to a pulp. Follow the way! You can't do it. It's unrealistic, you're better off doing this. How are you going to feed yourself.

And everyday, the sun rises, the wind blows and the leaves dance. The audience is missing, but the show goes on... For the few that is still awake.