expression

Be a Poem

Be the ink on the page that twirls and dances,
Depicting sublime concepts in words.
Be the metered pulsation, point, and rhythm’s fluctuation.
Let the muse guide ideas through poetry’s maze.

Be the metaphor that reveals the essence,
Interwoven layers of meaning.
Be the imagination that ignites an inner sense,
Transforming abstractions into images that soar aloft.

Be raw emotions on the lines,
Joy with sorrow, passion in between.
Whisper too, and let some soulful cry be fine,
Musical language, beautifully designed.

When people are most dejected, be their light,
Directing lost ships: in darkness show
The warm glow of lighthouses for those who wander at night,
A gentle morning breeze caressing softly as thoughts flow.

Let your voice be piercing yet gentle like any poet’s,
A beacon through the mundane veil.
Be always stanzas that never grow old,
Their value known regardless of time’s tale.

Be the poem
That is reborn with each new reading’s breath.
Make wonder-miracles, create verses that
Defy death in triumph and break the silence.

Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.
Screams & Chants

I can neither perfect nor dress this feeling with language,
Forgive me for speaking out loud.

I screamed in the cave of loneliness,
And heard the echoes of God repeating,
Screams of pain are chants for joy.

I am the nameless child,
I can only listen to silence,
I look in the mirror,
And I see,
A power using its five senses,
To absorb more of this world.

I breathe all.

I am the nameless child,
I am the painful truth,
And now I give you I.

Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.
My Voice

Find your voice,
They say.
I have found my voice.

They say pretend,
Misunderstanding,
Paper cuts on my soul.
They sting, they bleed.
This is not fine.

My voice to you is
Described as a whisper of a ghost.
However, to me
It is like thunder in my mind .

When told to speak out loud by you,
There are words that
I must take from the deepest part of me,
With every syllable
Struggling against my throat
And clawing to be let out.

On the other hand,
What you hear seems dry.
But for me, it feels
Like fresh wounds.

But if I have to
Call out to someone
In the next room,
I find myself falling into myself,
And my voice coming out
As though it emerged from the dawn of time.
It leaves me panting, empty,

Sometimes it sounds
Like I’m yelling
A cry in your ears;
While for me this is an earthquake
That breaks my soul.
The effort leaves me gasping, drained.

Peace is a soft shawl
Within silence.
At last,
My mind breathes.

In stillness,
And in mute moments,
I am complete.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
What Else?

From the deeper recesses of my brain,
I call forth whole worlds,
Whose births are unto galaxies,
From the tongue and fingertips.
They are bright spatial plains I create.

Then comes my magnificent creations,
Around which others revolve
Without knowing what compels them.
I attract.

Even though the gravity
Of producing pulls within my bones
I grow tired,
Listening to whispers similar
To that of a black hole,
Sometimes I rest,
Satiated by someone else’s food,
But the meal is empty.

I still carry on.
Whenever it fails
To elicit any interest from me
In isolation,
I move forward on the path
As impenetrable as a diamond.

What else is there for me
Except dying or creating?
I offer my own interpretation of the universe
Singing into the vast emptiness.

Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.
I Paint With Words

I paint
with words,
a dreamscape
of the mind.
A sunrise heard
in hues of gold,
A lover’s kiss,
sweet and tender,
A storm raging
with wild abandon.
I paint with words,
And you are
my canvas.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
Once Upon A Word

A word is a
life lived,
in liberation,
in freedom,
in honesty.

Filed under: 🜂 Other – reflecting on connection, relationships, and the spaces between souls.
A Live Word

Writing is liberation.
Reading is freedom.
Truth is honesty.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.