the bird and the sky

i don’t know the way of the sky

i am a bird of the wind

feel the brush on my skin,

my quill feather may fail

 

a canvas of white spreads,

above the clouds,

a worthiness to live,

a worthiness to die

 

a penny tossed from the sky

from birth to death,

the faces of gods

and the hope to live the heavens

 

 

 

 

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THE WORLD IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE IF ONLY THERE ARE ENOUGH WORDS TO SPEAK OF IT’S BEAUTY

fading breath

i’ve painted the mirrors black

to forget the lines on my face

around the radiant eyes of my childhood

 

it only became easier,

weaving unconsciously

these strings of lies

 

the thin layers between

walking on frozen water

a piercing cold under my feet

 

the words to my lover

like smoke in the air,

a hymn to a fading breath

 

 

 

Slay

What is life without struggle?
The soul of success
The worth, time
Sweat and tears
If one is to know pleasure,
Then a sacrifice of a young heart he must slay

Falling

I see it’s depth
An abyss of darkness
Drowning in my shadow
As thoughts chew on my consciousness

How low must I fall?
Before the sky disappears,
The sun into a star,
Fading into a black hole,

To return, or be lost,
Patience, a virtue of time,
A ticking clock,
That unsettles my heart

Frustrated, depressed,
Angry, lost
Hopeless, and lonely
Within a lunatic mind

Far from home

So I prayed today
At the altar under a roof,
Standing, a rusty but rugged cross,
On a peak, towards the sky

The candles fared,
Wavy flames danced with my own shadow
On dusty stone walls and aged furniture,
As silence masked the night

The midnight hour,
Transitioning into a future,
A present,
Dragging in a past,

These dreams of rue 
Incorporated in a self,
To be buried in tears,
And left longing, for an escapade

The prisoner’s creed

The past defines not my present,
Even though its shadow,
Dark like a moonless night,
Tries endlessly to devour my illuminated soul

But rather, like the stars,
My honest deeds shine bright now,
That even in the wake of my sorrows,
I look back,

now and tomorrow,
At the man I was,
The man I am now,
The man I want to become,

And will, God be my guide,
Surely be…

Grains of rice

We were grains of rice in a sack,
By a hand we were pulled out,
Cast upon the earth,
That we may bear more grains

And now, we grow differently,
On soft soils and hard rocks,
During warm days and cold nights
A dawning harvest we wait

A love that flew away

Swans once flew,
Over blossoming red roses
And their tainted white feathers,
On broken wings of marriage

The bruises of a first love,
A fall in a summertime
On springs of frozen tears

The lover’s castle by the river of memories
And buried emotions of a past,
Covered in a large painting by the hallway

That hearts bled,
Eyes watered, and skins, sweaty,
Our pathetic efforts to mend the burning bridge

So now, strained by the wrinkles of age,
We stare through these broken glasses,
Our wishful thoughts, carried by the mountain winds
To the land of the never was

That epitomes of our youthful fantasies, 
Lying under olive trees
Living among the stars,
We may savour,
The last smiles, and breath

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