A Masked Mirage

A moment of your time to render
What’s impossible possible,
An ostentatious overlap between
Reality and a masked mirage,
A directionless choice to test
The driver who will win the race,
Despite not possessing a compass,
The impossible opened its doors,
To deny my existence entirely,
To mean nothing in their life,
The tides are turning as Time
Reminds us about infinite possibilities,
A precise reality I am now embracing,
A masked mirage continuously fading,
The beauty will always soar,
And with it will we always live.

Split in Two

I
Outstretching a hand to a falling leaf,
A farewell ritual dancing with the breeze,
Purifying the land for its soft touches,
Commemorating our distant smiles,
And further, further it continues to leave,
So, I chose to quickly pick it up and hold it,
Sending all my warmth to its inner core,
Tending to its many complex arid cracks,
Some were so deep and beyond repair,
And even as close as I can be I am still –
Still unsure of my ability to intervene,
All I can do is allow Time to heal itself.

II
And whilst I dream about a surreal era,
Where cracks flawlessly diffuse forever,
Where I await mine to be softly tended,
Or at least to be acknowledged; at least,
Another decides to ride the whispers
Of a warm wind guiding a silent nomad,
Which sounds so elegantly majestic,
And yet, it leaves behind a heavy mirage,
Silence becomes my natural remedy,
Still unsure of my ability to intervene,
All I can do is allow Time to heal itself.

Two Dimensions

The tongue will not speak up the words
I am willing to share with this bright world.
Time has given a divine accusation to
A crumbling soul: split between two
Dimensions separating the limbs towards
The opposite polar – the nasty negative
And the pure positive – having a go at
My delicate heart burning it to ashes
As the blood boils the magnificent mind
Into accepting the fate of its bodily
Joints to get twisted beyond repair.
There I typed it since the tongue is still
Not brave enough to free its twists tangled
Between two very different worlds; each
Going through an enormous phase of
Continuous collisions. This begets an
Aspect of life lived for the lies of others;
Only hesitation would creep into
Mine as I put on an act for an audience
Deemed to become a mirage. But since
The mask is a bit crooked, loosening it
Is the only option, so I try to take it off,
But then my world would disintegrate
Below the earthly dust and form a
Massive grave that I would just have
To voluntarily (in pain) crawl into.