But I do hide from the pulse
of a constant stream of life
too much to bear at times I pull away
the skin to shed and leave behind
to darkest places I find
such comfort in the dark-
And when the moon is bright
the force of fools and crazy
will tear my mind apart
to seek among the meek
the softness of a touch,
the gentle music sway
I find inside a heart
that pulls me right away
to places full of light.
“Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your own presence rather than of the absence of others. Because solitude is an achievement”. Alice Koller
Lost in my own silence time passes slow
my voice within repeats the same, strange
how language is pointless and yet
I choose one, to speak words without sound.
I am most naked alone and quiet I found
stripped of looks and gestures I flow
in between the seconds of the clock
as it marks the days’ time, strange
how time matters and yet
I choose to let it go,
lost in the words without sound-
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
― Jalaluddin Rumi
At the end of the day
it is me who’s alone
like some birds which stay north
while the flock heads way south
I’m alone in this house
and remain just unknown
or at least feels that way-
And well know that I’m free
to decide who to see
or to choose from all none
when it’s me who’s alone
at the end of the day-
“If we are alone, we become more alone. Life is strange” ― Paulo Coelho
When left behind, I learned the subtle hush
that comes with being alone,
the silent voice inside my head-
And then I learned a lacking known
to those who tasted life’s sweet rush,
the flavors found in passing love
that left a trail of pain instead
when left me alone thereof-
When left behind, I learned how time
would play the clocks,
it marked its days across my face
while waiting here if someone knocks
I turn my words into these rhymes
and play the songs my soul defined,
alone to quietly retrace
the love that passed, when left behind.
Love, Time, Life
I cannot describe love, for I get it wrong,
words lose meaning on my twisted tongue
translation lost between heart and mouth
and seem to get lost, was it north or south?
I cannot describe time, for I lose the sense,
days merge into years becoming past tense
years merge into nothing and cannot recall
if I was there once or if I was there at all.
I cannot describe life, for I can’t understand
if I’m here and why when I hang by a strand
that sustains a heartbeat, and I cannot define
in a word what is life without love and time-
Like invisible ink slowly disappearing self
a life fading into a nothingness of existence
I become a thought, an idea of nonexistence.
Will you look at me and see what’s within
scribbled years of thirsty ideas of myself?
For I cannot seem to define where I begin
lost I am when through your eyes I became
and blind to a self stuck behind on your skin
I fade away in nothing left there to reclaim.
Absence is but a practice run
testing the forever gone
one day, some day,
when falling deep within
my soul won’t find its way.
And hell awaits they say
for living in my sin
but well I know when done
my life will then begin.