Character

The birds were floating in the wind, swaying in the sky oblivious to my emotion while liquid strings evenly parted my face. I wanted to howl insanely at the world, and ask ‘why me?’ and ‘what should I do now?’ I wanted to tear myself apart or perhaps I wanted to disappear but, a part of me quietly wished to rise above the ashes and dust myself off.

My essence was aching and weary, I was falling apart silently. All there was left to do was to let my drenched spirit dry off. So I sat up straight, not smiling, nor frowning with one hand sanely supporting my chin I let the liquid strings stemming from my spirit run down my face while I gazed into a life that could have been.

I wanted to call her but she was away, I knew she would know exactly what to say to get me out of this spell.

I was desperate, so I called him instead.

He answered the phone and we talked about the ‘unimportant-importants’ that allowed a single day to have its own unique persona.

Cold liquid strings rested on my cheeks as I offered him my broken spirit. He told me he knew exactly how I felt, that he had been through it before. That it was hard, but that he managed to overcome it. He persevered. He said it made him truly wake up, he said it made him wiser.

I was and still am learning about the one I call ‘him’ and ‘he’. He …surprises me often, displaying maturity and courage and responsibility and plain old common sense. He… inspires me often.

I said to myself, if that is what failing does to those who chose to get back up… then maybe failing isn’t really failing at all. I said to myself I wouldn’t really mind surprising myself occasionally with admirable traits, I wouldn’t mind being a little bit wiser, a little more matured, a little courageous, a little more responsible and a little more conscious. I said to myself I wouldn’t really mind being a little bit more… like him. I wouldn’t mind having ‘character’.

I decided to cease sobbing and heard a loud quiet voice speak. It said: failing does not mean you are a failure.

When liquid strings slice into the symmetry of a face, someone is experiencing the growth of a character.

Worry not

The sun rises each day and feeds the earth its sunlight.

The wind blows and reminds the earth with invisible touch of it’s own existence.

Babies are formed in the womb delicately, silently and sacredly before birth.

Roots dig into the ground and stems climb towards the sky.

The sun never says to the earth ‘you owe me’.

The wind never stops caressing our skins.

The womb doesn’t delegate tasks to the fetus.

Roots know to grow downwards and allow the stem to grow upwards.

Worry not, for the sun will shine and you won’t need to pay.

The wind does not discriminate and will surely blow your way.

Babies don’t panic over the placement of their limbs,

Babies will just be…

An organism without a brain acknowledges its order: “roots grow down and stems grow up”

No one influences these actions… they just are…

Life is a successful adventure.

Worry not, for you are already a part of it.

If you can allow yourself to be created into being, from nothing in the period of nine months why worry over the events yet to transpire?

You are the miracle, it’s already done.

Still dancing

We’ll wait till sunrise

To live the cost of tonight.

We’ll wait till sunrise,

To feel the residue of our actions

We’ll wait till sunrise,

So light can shed our hearts.

But if sunrise…

O if sunrise never comes,

Our hearts will be our bodies,

We’ll dance forever,

so naked, so freely,

And forget about our skin,

For in the darkness,

O in darkness, we can only feel.

We’ll lend our bodies to our hearts

And let the night be our joyous meal,

We’ll let our minds believe that the sun

Has drowned in the sea.

There’s no tomorrow so we’ll let ourselves just be.

When the dawn appears we’ll hope the sun is weakened

and we’ll pray that all the starts pay tribute to our memory .

Spreading love and all we shared across galaxies.

We’ll separate our bodies but know our hearts are still dancing,

Still dancing in the stars that light your evenings.

Tonight, the night after and all the nights you’ll never see.

And when the sun appears,

just know our hearts… are still beating, still dancing ( so freely, so naked, so unabashedly).

THE DUSK IT RAINED ON ME

And it finally rained

The dusk after you

touched me.

All of me was broken...

Broken into the sea.

All the hopeless pieces of me

Were shed unto thee.

Your presence stronger,

I can feel you in the breeze.

All my crippled crumbles

Have shed just like the leaves.

And in you I can see me,

Just as I am meant to be.

Without imperfections,

Except the one I call me.

As my pieces lay

In the streaming sea,

It’s obvious that I,

As perfect as I try to be

Am a part of us.

Just as you are a part of me.

And if I shed again next season

You will always be the cure

But never the reason.

Possibly

The tears don’t dry because I do not know how to stop them,

From tearing my face into uneven pieces.

I am crying, because I am ashamed.

My heart’s head and shoulders are hunched,

My hearts spine is bent.

My heart’s demeanour is that of infamy and lament.

I want to cry tonight:

For my little heart that droops so low.

And maybe tomorrow,

I will plead for my heart’s forgiveness,

Possibly in the future I will reason with my hearts face to smile again.

Possibly...

GROWING IN SILENCE

Hushed like a lily flower in the breezeless sky,

I am draped in futile contentedness,

Even my heart is still as I silently sink into myself.

Just me in my cocoon soon to catabolise and soon to anabolize,

But not yet,

Not now,

Not here,

Not far

But soon.

PINK POETRY and Indigo Inscriptions

PINK POETRY and Indigo Inscriptions