Sometimes we don’t really need voices to console our hearts, all we need is voiceless gifts of nature to slide ourselves into a mood of happiness unbound out of nowhere and calmness out of no meditation.


Cracks and healings

Walking down the street by the lakeside, I feel strangely caught up between past and present. I think of number 5 and pair it up with years so gone. What it gives is nothing more than my own last five years with a same looking person with some physical changes and with changed perceptions. How I met several humans like me and left them behind, with still meeting more. It’s hard to describe change but an artist does that for me who sits a few metres away on the footpath I walk and sketches a happy couple with charcoal. I figure out that how wonderful were the colors that I used to fill in the figures and now how the black and white filter satisfies every color that bounces in me. Is that change?

Maybe it’s how we get prone to the world and how we have to start setting limits to ourselves and our colors. Well I don’t feel lonely on this chaotic road but still quietness strikes me to observe the leaves broomed on the side standing with my passing air, showing themselves and then turn back down lying dead when I am gone. Maybe that explains my five years.

I put on my headphones and turn on the song to houndmouth- For no one and feel the soft beats like its outside playing and consoling me for truth of things I wanna find. For once I feel empty and light of every organ that keeps working for me restlessly to keep me alive,rather I feel like wearing cloak of invisibility and being unnoticed and free. Maybe there is some diversion sign wherever I plan to walk my life path. These signs have no reasons for diversions, it’s the trust of the norms in me.

I have a free therapy and I feel lucky although I am not crazy. My heart whispers to the trees, to the hills, the lake water shining, and the birds returning their homes, whispers of Thank you for being so beautiful that my heart dances and brings my mind joy, a different joy and comfort which I may never find in voices, humans and a joy in silence.

Loosing jigsaw pieces

How every jigsaw piece of my heart bleeding of its own jigsaw,

Every drop dropping and wasting being unexpressed,

Researching fate of this unmend wound maybe to heal it again,

Maybe dripping is voiceless who dwells and dies in silence,

Or does it whisper in the absence of its boundless time after death soaking tears of another heart,

It’s dead now don’t cry, because it was always half and always trying to complete itself.

Pearls of a necklace

Pearls all hidden in the vast waters made by small sculptors.

When found are added to a thread so to adorn a maiden’s neck.

Slowly every pearl getting heavy on her neck like life filled with people creating choas.

The maiden snatches it from her neck and throws it on the ground scattering every pearl crying of pain and heaviness. Was this meant being her done? Maybe it was. Or maybe she thought to buy a new necklace? Maybe not.

Let me live between the Lotus

I speak nothing, I feel nothing, I want nothing, I am her soul wrapped with silence and only the clock on the side of the bed tick-talking to me. I observe the miracles happening which maybe some cannot see and can see if they want to. I did sometimes loose myself in this labyrinths of darkness not knowing what was my own bliss. What if I am the fool of the fools, ignoring this is because of the earthly elements that cover me? But no I ain’t because I will live forever and have a journey which no mortal will have.

Let me pray for now in this world only amongst the few pure lotus blooming in the wet dirty mud and dance to the music unheard breaking some part of this silence. So later, I would be possessed by loneliness,so pure and holy, of this beautiful lotus that I would rest her forever in peace to set for next journey which will begin from her ashes and I will rise like the Phoenix and end my destiny in the throne of the sky, on the lap of my lord and never roam around.

The poetess to the miracle

The sun shining so bright,

For me sending you some light.

I saw your heart shine in dark,

For it was crystal clear as a spark.

You are the music pulling strings of my heart,

And I am the painter painting you in my every piece of art.

I don’t know what my pen writes for you in some farland,

But you will live forever in these pages of mine that are blank.

Take care princess of your worthy gown,

So that no one scars it with some dirty brown.

If you ever come back with some thought about me in your mind,

Remember an old friend thinking of you in this world of grind.

The significant other

All wrapped in the duvet is like a trauma to her.

She had a river of people flowing by her dipped in legs, until a few droplets reamined sticking when legs taken out. They never dripped down on the ground and went back home with her.

You were the drop turning into worthless coins that she filled her piggy bank with, happily. Happiness so overwhelming that it was to be enveloped by her. For the first time in years living in the dark room the rays of the sun touched her of your hopes. Shyness that covered her for a long time like a caterpillar in a cocoon, teared itself open to like a new born butterfly flattering her colorful wings, not knowing you will be the poisonous flower she will first sit on to suck.

Now she sits back in time, looking at you from her mind, eyes every day terrified in the old darkness yet filled with love, that of a sheep in fear of getting slaughtered by his own shephard.

Now she fears hope, light, love and knows betrayal.