self-expression

Some and Some

Some ignore it all,
Some count wounds,
And some count lessons.

Some seek beauty in the mundane,
Some find solace in solitude,
And some revel in the chaos.

Some dance with joy in the rain,
Some embrace the stillness of night,
And some chase the dawn’s first light.

Some build bridges from broken pieces,
Some heal others with their own scars,
And some shine as beacons through the dark.

Some act with kindness,
Some whisper wisdom,
And some create words.

Some plant seeds in barren soil,
Some nurture dreams against all odds,
And some inspire hope in weary hearts.

Some find strength in vulnerability,
Some forge unity from diversity,
And some spark change with a single act.

Some paint stories on blank canvases,
Some compose melodies from silence,
And some sculpt beauty from rough stone.

Some embrace the unknown with courage,
Some question to seek deeper truths,
And some re-imagine the world anew.

Each path is unique, yet none supreme,
All threads in life’s lotus flower,
A symphony of human experience.

Some lead, some follow, some walk alone,
Yet all move onward in their time,
Each step is valid, each journey whole.

In laughter, tears, or silent thought,
We navigate our inner worlds,
No way lesser, no way greater.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
Curiosity’s Compass: The Alchemy of Purpose

The flame of knowledge and curiosity
Should merge in the dance of life.
What do I know? What explodes my amazement?
Here unfolds strength, my gift to the world.
Who drinks from my pool of knowledge?
Whose lives are influenced by my “why’s”?

This is the point of confluence where vocation thrives,
As a fruitful garden is punctiliously landscaped.
How have they developed “my babies”?
What feelings take root in their hearts?
The meaning of a well-spent life is found
In the mirth and progress of others.

We come into this world
Without being complete,
Yet can be said to have everything
Necessary for making our tune.
Life is like a canvas waiting for my hand
To paint chords where we belong.

Thus we put names on things,
Adding our own words to the great song,
Not to jostle but rather to augment
– A melody of joy intermingled with sorrow.

We make use of eyesight for what is visible;
Touch things that are tangible,
And sense the invisible presence hovering around us.
However, Mother Earth’s deep heart,
Gaps in space,
Are still a sealed book and
Beyond our ken.

The pathway to wisdom,
Knowledge interwoven with curiosity,
Is lit on through seeking, sharing, and reflecting.

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

Memories like candles.
They burn,
cry hot wax tears,
then leave a monument.
All while shining a light,
on what you choose
and how you choose,
to see.

I can count many tales
on my hand,
and many wounds
on my arms.
I lay every night
on a pillow
of flame and tears.

I drown inside my head and
break into pieces of kintsugi
inside my heart.

I try to explain,
but no one listens.
Born mute,
learned to speak.
Born different,
learned to fit in.
Born to be me,
and I learned to be you.
I can explain,
But who’s listening?

Wrongly labeled
and wrongly judged.
Back of a hand on lips.
A sword cuts through my lungs.
Thoughts hanged.
Innocence raped.
Natural gifts shot.
And all buried.
No ceremony,
and no farewell.
No time to grieve,
and no time to adapt.
I’m ok.

Here’s a mask,
put it on.
I am told.
You are sin.
Yes I am sin.
Hide your soul.

I can count many tales
on my hand.
I rest my head,
on pillow of fire.
And I drown
in the waters of my thoughts.
I love,
and I hurt.

Forgive me.
Footprints erased.

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

self-expression

Some and Some

Curiosity’s Compass: The Alchemy of Purpose

Footprints Erased