my symphony

sitting on a starlit hill
I hear noise behind me
but I cannot listen

the city lights ahead have me in a stupor

h.r.m

wrong

do you mumble in your sleep?

do you cry when you weep?

does your head feel full of woe?

does your soul have strength to show?

do you feel remorse at all?

do you see me constantly fall?

does your heart not carry guilt?

does your conscience ever wilt?

do you see me as I was before?

for I am stronger, that’s for sure.

vernal season

tell them all we’re happy
through our clean misfortune
the innocence of brilliance and intentions of youth
we wondered through our forests of treason
finding none but plenty
rejoicing from one cup, stumbling through his gales
the oceans toyed with minds, such humour of dismay
it was a pleasurable road, unknowingly the yokefellow prepared
gratitude I send, for the spine you gave
inconsequential ones, behold your fire, your dreams haven’t spoken to you yet
patrician, valediction it may be, know the heavens are scheming

such branches defunct, procrastinating till spring.

half empty half full

I look at you again, 
dear consort, 
but I see you not. 
we try again, 
loved one, 
but I see it not. 
You say it will get better, 
kind liar, 
but I think not. 

my world you were, 
a continent you are, 
a desolate cave you will be. 
I wish this not,
for a pledge I took, 
and my being assigned. 

what I cannot comprehend is why the trees have other plans for me, 
when they know where it all lies. 

universe of ours, 
hold the almighty
in their duty of care
through our time of need. 
rebuild these bridges, 
enlighten the consort, 
and flower this path we endeavour. 

sweet beloved, 
hold some hope
and send a prayer. 
I have another plan for us. 

mas o menos

if you count your blessings you will see beyond your molehill
likewise if you count someone’s virtues, their vices will become a molehill
though these vices may impede the grounding of our lives

through the beauty that is bestowed upon us, in our lands of vivacity
we subject ourselves to what we perceive as worthy, but who are you to resolve?
through disconnecting ourselves from our realities, the waters become clear
and then you will see, the trueness of living and that we are in fact the creators of our destinies

happiness is not bought, it is sought by many and is as real is you build it
do you build half a roof? then why settle for half of your heart’s fulfillment?
own yourself, only then can you gift yourself to another for your excellence
spuriousness of your worthiness is the ultimate hindrance and the level of merit is a momentous realisation on this journey

adoration is some, but not plenty.
to live with an underestimating soul is the epitome of darkness
loneliness would be a greater companion
rid of your perverted scrutiny and revel in the glory of the likeness

be true to oneself, before one another

yearn

you look at me, and I see beyond
beyond your bright eyed poker face
beyond your perfect glare
but rather your yearning
for acceptance
for light
and for warmth

standing in silence
I offer my hand
as a fellow truth seeker
to fill your gaps
with molten love

forbearing

as our lives are the pivots of our beings, there comes a day when the flow is redirected entirely; this does not station, merely reinforces another flux

to hold back is to abstain, from the mildest focuses of our daily endeavours
it is these very endeavours that blind us of our worldly privileges
a connection is established and a road becomes apparent
a road that you may have longed for, but never seemed to pass
once you are on this road, you search further, and your soul within yourself
it was there all along, but you were not

how to refrain from your once perceived longing is not an effort,
a mere joy and quite the contrary of what it should be
should you know when to fly, or tie your empty promise
though you do know what to do, you cannot
hold it dear, and send it to above for only the Glorious can guide
await your sealed sign, the Almighty has a plan for you yet

moonshine

only in the abyss do such blessings shine brighter than stars
only in the day are we blinded of our hearts
I see it now, clear as day, right as rain, though its’ form a mystery, its’ presence a companion
an absence of plenty brings you to the ground no doubt
hence the forthcoming prayer is acknowledged without burden

fictitious bearings stand chance no more;
this glorious forts concealment no more

gape to the moon, for his company knows no bounds