self-reflection

Rooted Riddle

A shadow,
my only consistent friend,
becomes shorter with the rising sun,
a lie, this shrinkage,
as it also extends,
an outstretched darkness
that drains the dew-frosted leaves.

Sun-lit, I stretch,
a still green reaching,
for the very light
that sears my edges brown.

A dryness quenched by the storm
that comes to tear me from the soil.

This rooted life,
a paradox of immobility and wild growth,
of receiving what consumes my being,
carbon’s gentle touch,
and returning the very breath
that enables the robin to sing.

They say I am plain,
a fixed point in a turning world.
But in my bark and flower,
quiet battles are fought,
a contradiction to living,
a paradox to being.

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

I would not trade the soft whispers of my soul
for the bright music of fleeting praise.
Nor the shadows that give it shape
to melt in the radiance of endless sunlit days.
I would wish my spirit a shadow and a light.

A shadow to give me solace and the space
to feel the textures of the world unseen.
A light to guide my footsteps through the labyrinth
and find loveliness in what might have been.

A shadow to ground me to the earth’s dark center;
A light to lift my gaze to distant, promising skies.

I would rather my way had a seeking heart than that I accepted dull conjecture.

I crave the ache of reaching for the stars above,
for those who settle for dust have lost their deep hue.
I have known the thrum of a love that burns,
and its soft whisper rings more clear and true.

When the evening falls, the tired bird takes rest
and dreams of flying on the morning breeze.
As sunrise wakes it leaves the sheltered nest
to greet the largeness with a glad prayer.

The life of birds is quest and return.
A shadow and a light.

The river flows from mountain’s height away
and gains strength from every winding stream.
It cuts its course through darkness and through light
until it flows to the sheen of the ocean.

The life of rivers is a sharing and a gain.
A shadow and a light.

And thus the self departs its boundless source,
to wander through the landscapes of the Now,
through the summits of strife and the span
of peaceful valleys where gentle breezes blow.

To reach the final current, smooth and deep,
and lose itself once more where all beginnings sleep.

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

Our steps can only
move in one direction,
yet we choose freely
the line they trace.
A note of possibilities
and probabilities.

We are either giving,
or retreating into ourselves.
Receiving,
or closing the door.
Kind,
or indifferent.
Loving,
or causing harm.
Welcoming,
or disturbing peace.
Living in harmony,
or in hurt.
A friend,
or a shadow of chaos.
A storyteller,
or a line written and erased
at will.
A voice,
or an empty cave.

Balance is the soul’s equilibrium—
to see the genuine,
hear the authentic,
and embrace who we are.

Not every stranger is an enemy,
nor does every event
place us in peril.
And every danger
calls for a different courage.

Discernment isn’t obsequious
and bound
by ideology or knowledge.
It is the wisdom
to see your true self,
to understand your role
within the cosmos.
It is the intuition of your spark,
the compass of your mind’s identity,
the principles
that guide your soul.

Before you act,
pause and ask:
Who am I?
Would I wish for a friend or a foe?
Does my heart long for love,
or carry the weight of hate?
Who am I becoming?

Take a step.
Be the person
worthy of your own beatitude,
Of living happily ever after.
Not someday,
but here,
now,
today.

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

Have you ever felt
As if you are standing
In your own space
With your hands open
And every person you encounter
Tattoos you,
Writes on you
With permanent ink
Before moving on?

The marks glow
With a stained-glass-like luster;
They form an intricately
Beautiful pattern
Made out of memories
And accidental encounters.
Some run very deep;
Others just scratch the surface;
Nevertheless each one
Does stay
In its own way
However, faint it might be.

Would you want to look at yourself?
Can you see yourself beneath these marks?

In the looking glass,
There’s a kaleidoscope of reflections
Looking back at me
A live screen
On which countless stories appear.
But beneath all these;
I feel a heartbeat pounding constantly,
A central self-crying out
For recognition…

I feel as if I am losing myself
Within these entwining paths
A life’s true maze.
Which scars deserve
Our appreciation
And which ones should be forgotten?
It could be that this decision
Symbolizes the very essence
Of the soul.

Just
Wandering.

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

Happiness once said to me,
“Walk this path and you will find paradise.”
So I rushed, I ran and I suffered,
Blind to all but the promised reward.

Until I met sadness who said to me,
“Don’t rush there, man or you will find nothing.”
Of course I accused him of being a liar,
A rain on my sunny dreaming.

So I set my mark and walked the dark tunnel,
Each step echoing with hope and fear,
Until I found my paradise,
It seemed so near.

I raised my hand to touch it,
Fingers trembling with desire,
And I found nothing but mud,
My dreams sunk in earthly mire.

Yet in that mud, a seed might grow,
Of wisdom earned, not freely given.
Perhaps true joy lies not in chasing,
But in living each moment, fully.

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

self-reflection

Rooted Riddle

A Shadow and a Light

A Step

Just Wandering

Happiness