Reluctant was I to stand ground,
My own self in total disregard,
I may lift weights overhead,
Yet, mine holding me down,
And I may talk to others nonstop,
But will the ‘silence talk’ ever start?
And I may read others’ faces,
Whilst mine buried underground.
So here is to the era of recovery,
To the morning light of my moon,
To the midnight rise of my sun:
An early bird – for a lasting lullaby,
An invention – for an open mic,
A dew – for a refreshing smile,
A postcard – for a self-reflection,
So here is to how I stood my ground.
When the moon nourishes the heart of a forlorn sand,
And when the shooting star orbits around Polaris,
Where shall the nomadic sand go to seek seeds of guidance?
If not for the celestial bodies embedded in our skies,
The moon would dwell on uneven edges of the Earth,
But as a sand seeking a fruitful tomorrow,
I camp on mountainous constellations,
Listening to Polaris’ revelations,
How the everlasting silences of the shooting star
Will recreate the Big Bang,
How the infinite smiles of the moon
Will redirect the flow of Time,
And we may once more wonder where will the
Forlorn nomadic sand be if not for these three?
Mystical winds enveloped my breaths,
And took control over how I sang my soul,
And onto the ancient stones of a labyrinth,
I was raised into the heavens up above to
Shout cries of the earthly wonders to those
Who slowly kissed our hallow moon. And left.
The trees that fed us their roots for a revival,
Joined the ritual to dance their wisdom minds
Into our explorative souls that continued to fly
Into the depths of the seas, and to soar over the
Heights of the mountains – there I hugged the
Roots into a dance along the forest. And halted.
The nature’s musical stops at a beat that beats
The beating hearts into a shocking stop stopped
Beyond awakening – a deathly shock – bereaved
At the notion that everything is from beauty,
And hence, everything will return to beauty,
My beloved nature was cremated. And silenced.
Glow a memory of the past,
And live by yourself at last,
Produce an abstract so vast,
A relic for your eyes to blast,
A symbolic eerie halo to cast
A spell leaving minds aghast,
To our lunar rituals of the past,
We look at your beauty at last,
Within your glory lives a vast
Energetic singularity to blast,
Forlorn shadows start to cast
Under your glow never aghast.
Take your time, lovely flower,
Be alone and soothe your heart,
Let the moon glow its glory
On your divine magical soul,
Let the tears of love that hide
Behind the curtains of pain
Flow down the rivers of my lands,
And walk outside into the
Tales of blossoming friendships,
There you will find my garden’s
Heart waiting to listen to your
Melodic songs to be sung by
The morning birds – voices of
Nature dancing with the wind
Where your soul shall smile,
Let it be young! Let it be free!
Let it be alive! Let it be you!