Dawning

keep your fingers crossed
your heart open
your vision willing
your dreams real

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keep your smile secret
your heart willing
your vision sure
your dreams strong

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keep your eyes dry
your heart strong
your vision unblurred
your dreams from fleeting

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keep your head up
your heart patched up
your vision realistic
your dreams as dreams

 

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two little saplings

two little saplings

their limbs cannot hear
each others’ leaves rustling
shushes of sweet nothings
they only feel the soft caress of whispered wants

their leaves cannot see
how with each season
the branches reach, yearning towards them
they only feel a newborn tendril’s touch

their hearts enclosed in trunk
spread out their rooted love
and rejoice
when they taste
the same rain
and bask in the same warmth

two old gnarled trees
know of a love
they feel it within
beyond what they know

but they know.

unknown

there is a yearnful parting
that never came to be

we search for it without notice
whether or not an illusion

never knowing if each met
will ever be the ONE

as understudys eager to be betrayed as us.

two strangers never encountered
convinced they will know:
innately, irrevocably

and as they contemplate thus
seemingly guaranteed in deed

each pass the other
remaining one less unknown.

Latined

When will the words that spill
from pen step aside to the native inside?

The brimming pronouncements
do not carry the heart as do
the foreign sounds
that claim they are indeed original
yet the thinkings remain clattering away in latin
inching forward to express
what too many words
cannot feel

fooler fooled

for every deception

there comes a moment

of unwillingness

a moment of unclarity

where whatever falseness

lays in wait to be discovered

there hides the revelation

that the fooler will become the fooled

that the convincer will become convinced

to put his contrivances aside

and believe in something

that would never make sense out loud.

thinking too much

there is a rumour
of empty space
its hallow call
fills the breath
of room it
usually occupies

as it tries its
feeble best
to spread its peace

the clusters of chaos
have advancedly arrived
they nudge and jostle
trilling their slogans
each wanting to
trigger

struggling one above the other
to subsume
in desires to consume

“that is the dilemma when you think too much”

there lies tragedy

there lies tragedy
just beyond the hills
of stones that dot the
fields of the listless dead

*
whatever rest
that was promised
lays unslept

*
treacherous livingness
slithers hither and thither
and nibbles at the ashes
drying upon the waves
hurrying to capture
the soul that remains
trapped in the clutches
of its cursers

*
mercy be upon
all those who slumber
in the slighted hope
of idleness