introspection

  • Sometimes

    Sometimes

    Sometimes, our eyes betray us,
    Revealing more than we can hold.

    Sometimes, it’s better
    To turn away,
    To let one side remain in shadow.

    Sometimes, we feel too deeply,
    Our hearts stretch and hurt
    So profoundly.
    Sometimes, we laugh so joyfully,
    And love with all we are.

    Sometimes, our senses overwhelm us.
    Sometimes, it’s better
    To let one side remain unseen.

    Do we show up in fragments,
    Pieces waiting to be reassembled
    And reinterpreted?
    Or do we arrive whole,
    Complete, with all our
    Imperfections, cracks and missing parts?

    Our hopes and dreams
    Rooted in the solid ground
    Of what we can truly offer,
    And what we truly need.

    Sometimes, we see so little.
    Sometimes, it’s enough
    To just arriveβ€”
    To stand and show up for life.

    Sometimes,
    My mirrors reflect
    Sometimes,
    My roots grow deep
    Into the earth of connection
    Sometimes,
    I am fire.
    Sometimes,
    I am ash.
    Sometimes,
    I am present.

    Sometimes, I wonder why.
    Sometimes, I wonder how.
    Sometimes, I wonder when.
    Sometimes, I wonder what.

    Sometimes, I start.
    Sometimes, I finish.
    Sometimes, I give up.
    Sometimes, I am the fight.

    Sometimes, we want more.
    Sometimes, we want less.
    Sometimes, we find the balance
    Of what to give.

    Sometimes, I play God.
    Sometimes, I serve the world.
    Sometimes, I am

    Sometimes,
    In the still moment of silence.

    And sometime,
    Once upon a time.

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

  • Curiosity’s Flame

    Curiosity’s Flame

    In the quiet corners of existence,
    A spark flickers, unbidden.
    Underlying said phenomenon is that,
    Without being wanted or sought for,
    It grows into a flame of self-inquiry
    That not only makes one discover
    What lies beneath our shadows,
    But also truths we do not know about.

    We are young kids again
    Eyes wide with the world’s vastness.
    Every inquiry is a pebble tossed
    Into the pond of existence,
    Ripples spreading,
    Running on shores we have never reached.

    The fire inside
    Burns layers of uncertainty,
    Dissolving all the cozy fallacies
    We surround ourselves with.

    To question is to bridge
    The gap between self and other,
    Side by side with the pitiful gesture
    Of one’s own fingers pointing towards nothingness,
    Between the known and mysterious.

    In asking, we are stripped
    Like a newborn baby becoming vulnerable,
    Yet even as powerful as old men of knowledge.
    As we shed off clothes of curiosity,
    The real us stands out ‘naked’.
    Here, our truest essence is revealed.

    May this fire burn brightly,
    Let it destroy the walls
    We have erected around our hearts.
    It is here that we find traces of wisdom
    (Because they have been revealed) amidst burning beliefs;
    Seeds which need light to grow.

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

  • An Aprioric Perspicaciousness

    An Aprioric Perspicaciousness

    White paper and a pen
    wish for me,
    on a birthday of many returns
    passed, yet to come.
    So a thought I will,
    and a thought
    I may, descend
    into self,
    my self-maintained, renewed self,
    my pattern of self.
    Together and with,
    I feel out
    an infinite creativity,
    I do now
    experience my stability.

    Ever change,
    never never.
    Am.
    I am dependent,
    Yet I am identified.

    One in once.
    Always a memory,
    always a surprise.

    Scenes change,
    familiar feelings.
    Known to life,
    stranger to my own.
    Allowed to feel all,
    but not my own.
    Hold on
    known stranger, hold on.
    I hold on to my breath.
    I hold on.

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

  • Anonymous Days

    Anonymous Days

    When relationship with self
    Becomes mere convenience,
    An empty shell forms,
    No real core.

    Our true self fades,
    Lost in the fog.
    We lose our compass,
    We lose our guiding star’s light.

    Floating alone,
    In a big formless sea,
    We drift through time,
    Chained and confused.

    Each moment blends
    Into the next,
    As we wander blind
    Through days and space.

    In this hazy trip,
    Where who we are
    Is in exile,
    We find ourselves lost
    In anonymous days.

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