When Night Falls

Eternity+in+an+hour (1)

When Night Falls

~

Whenever night falls in later days

it does not change me for today,

a fraction of eternity, to comprehend

this thing inside that strive and try

to push its way into my surface

and dress in layers that transcend

the who I think I may become-

Too late to alter or to overcome

this harden clay into a shape

so what you see is what I get

despite the times when I forget

and dream in dreams that swiftly die-

 So let me accept that night will come

no written words will make me best

nor passing love or fairy tales

will keep me whole, I’m like the rest

when dust to dust my life entails

it does not change me for today-

H.O


“As nightfall does not come at once, neither does oppression. In both instances, there is a twilight when everything remains seemingly unchanged. And it is in such twilight that we all must be most aware of change in the air – however slight – lest we become unwitting victims of the darkness.”

― William O. Douglas,

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End

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End

~

It does not matter

where I rest my bones

ashes over water

in old places left

with a taste of earth

and bound to return-

It does not matter

if a name on stones

to remember birth,

nothing left to hold

but the dusty ashes

lost amid the grasses

and persistent vines.

It does not matter

if I’m going to be

under tallest pines

nearest to the sea-

H.O


“Life is for the living.

Death is for the dead.

Let life be like music.

And death a note unsaid.”

― Langston Hughes, The Collected Poems

Awaken

Light-Falls

 

Awaken

~

What a strange look you gave me when I said the words

of finite wisdom, realizations tucked away quietly

to unwrap in stormy days and contemplate.

Death sounds somber when I share wishes silently

across a dark room while the wind howls and shakes

our most precious foundation of love and care.

And you forcefully smile caught unprepared

for such moments when reality taste bitter

and I rehash lost years and countless mistakes.

Strange to see the end of my journey so near

and you the only one that always mattered

the only thing I will never regret.

And all I could wish for too late I fear

the time has come to end my dreams

and through you live a life of wishes drawn

on broken pieces of discarded fate.

To contemplate such moment it seems

inconceivable as we are eternal in our minds

and forget our flesh has an expiration date

stamped at birth,  for death already binds

every heartbeat to the approaching dusk.

H.O


“To die, to sleep –

To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub,

For in this sleep of death what dreams may come…”

― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Ruminations of a Cloudy Life

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Ruminations of a Cloudy Life

~

A sweet-sour sense of quietly fading into a background

of shadows like stains left from spilled life,

not quite done but knowing it all ends in one act,

memorized lines learned along the way to enact

one more scene to satisfy my audience-

And how it flickers this fragile light

fueled by the essence of all that it’s found

in the beauty of miracles astounded

by the emotions I carry, such love and care

a reminder of what is to live despite

the twist and turns encountered in my travels.

Pause… take a deep breath and feel today

the curtain drawn back, the act unravels

into a silent story bound to disappear

as forgotten words and expressions decay

like leaves falling too late

into the wet coldness of my winters.

Pause… review the lines learned along the way,

listen to the subtle voice playing behind

the loudness of this reality,

the one that wants and dreams hinders

like the edge of a razor cutting away

brief moments of eternal wishes.

Pause… another deep breath,

I am here, flesh and bones aching

between my heartbeats of mortality

waiting for the curtain to drop one last time

on this act I so well created when death

becomes the last part to play.

Pause… pause… pause…

for eternity-

H.O


“The first thing fading is your beauty

the least trustworthy is your mind

down here on this earth

nothing’s of any worth

in the end

in the end”

― Fabian W. Williges, Far from perfect: songs & poems

The in Between

seasons-blog

 

The in Between

~

I wish not to return-

To begin at a page many chapters behind

folded places to mark all the impressionable parts

(not too many I am afraid)

But sometimes in the story with a breaking of hearts

I left stains on the paper from my depleted tears,

underlined with red ink I may find

all the reasons to explain my deep fears

and go back on the story to connect I may try

all the dots from the long tedious chapters

the in between understanding the reasons

why a story begins with a cry

as it ends with the changing of seasons-

H.O


“And in the fall, the cold would wither that which was known, scattering new seed. In the spring, that which had been sleeping awoke and a new season of beauty began. For Life seeks life and builds a bridge across the darkest valley.”

― David Paul Kirkpatrick, The Address Of Happiness

Of what will become

Love and Loss (Angled)

 

Of what will become

~

I am tired-

My body crushed beneath the weight of a million years

my soul infected with the plague of disappointments craves

the silent rest of eternal night, the quiet weight of graves

to house my flesh, to complete my cycle and be home again-

And how I loved this life, forsaken roads leading to places

full of joy among the tears I shed at times of tribulation,

the miracles of flowers, sunlight and my laughing child.

I loved it all and made it mine in happiness and pain

all exhausted until nothing left but shadows in isolation

nothing left but dark stains of history mapping my skin

from where all began to where x marks the spot

of my here and now, tired from the weight of years-

~

The overgrowth hides the stone

carved letters of forgotten name

under a quiet lot facing the ocean

forever now  extinguished flame

H.O


“Life’s just a bunch of accidents, connected by one perfect end.”

― Daniel C. Tomas

Approaching Dusk

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Approaching Dusk

~

I fear the approaching dusk

stretched to fill the empty holes

my life will pass like summer rain,

and won’t be here

to dry your tears and sooth your pain,

to hold you dear

until the memories subside-

And things I asked about my soul

eternal life reserved for all,

to cross the light,

I just don’t know-

I fear my dusk approaching fast

eternal night

as cold as winter fallen snow,

and only you to hold me here-

H.O

“When he died, I went about like a ragged crow telling strangers, “My father died, my father died.” My indiscretion embarrassed me, but I could not help it. Without my father on his Delhi rooftop, why was I here? Without him there, why should I go back? Without that ache between us, what was I made of?”

― Kiran Desai