A help from earth guardians,
And the summoning rituals begin,
Prehistorical water dragons sound the horn,
For forest beasts to begin the invasion.
A sense of loss engulfs me,
And the lack of words leaves me agape,
Inappropriate mental weather storms
Drive me into a chaotic silence.
And as we live through climatic fumes,
I win few elderly pawns,
Alas, the queen mourns as
The guardians crush our king.
Your story, main character, and world
Talked to me, to the elders of my tribe,
During an elusive era where simple
Silhouettes walk on a desert’s horizon,
Searching to settle near a fruitful oasis,
And when books were written to
Commemorate our legends, they were
Suffocated to never reveal the rightful heir,
(to a scorching throne buried in quicksand)
Yet, after decades of silence the glorious
Book was resurrected in a classical concert,
Soon to be confiscated, burnt, and our
Whispering hearts to be forever silenced,
Now, we are but drones awaiting the
National Day of Robotic Maintenance.
Your smile warms my heart,
Your thought eases my breaths,
Your eye ignites my universe.
An art to my grey world,
A song to my silent nights,
A compass to my lost days.
The youth to my aging soul,
The end to my previous life,
The beginning to my next one.
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.
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.
Have you noticed how a blink of an eye
Iz so draztix that the letdez dawnt fitt
The preskribd loz of the aflabits?
But wenn the I’z blinnc mor and mor –
UUell, knaw pleez blenc a-gay-n – ohkay,
Wan mor tyme so that the two little
Curtains of your vivacious musical
Close assisted by the waters of life,
Lubricating an eye into a rapid motion.
Have you noticed how a blink of an eye
Gets an important invitation to moisten
The fruitful life and this avoids dryness
From sucking the logical sense of
These written words out of their
Natural voices, and if by some random
Phenomenon you blink excessively,
Then the world would voluntarily spin
Out of control leaving you with a
Bothersome black blind of a blink.
And have you noticed that today
You sometimes blink to change the
Visual effects of your worldly matter
Just to relive a more colourful film,
Or avoid a bright white energy,
And readjust your camera lenses,
And this might work fine, but it
Might also leave you in dismay,
Disbelieving in a blink of an eye,
Where repetition might just work.
And have you noticed that some
Blinks close to never reopen?
Their whispers have gone, too,
Never did you notice, did you? –
How a blink of an eye will change
The course of your thinking
About the ancestors that became
Your world today and how today
Becomes tomorrow after leaving
Your blink of an eye very silent.
But can you imagine that all of this
Is only the work of a blink of an eye?!
This is a story about our encounter:
A secret bestowed upon a garden
By the keepers of a magical town,
Centred within Gaelic wilderness,
Frivolous birds briskly fly their wings
Into the flowers of a peaceful summer,
We become trees: young and wise,
Organic leaves delineating our soul,
Signs of nature pulling us here,
A nest for storytellers, a sanctuary so
Sacred till the last sip of a teapot,
Brewed within earthly volcanic
Waters to be consumed by many
Celestial souls of serene beings,
The story tells of an enigmatic
Inscription well-preserved within
Its silent walls and cushioned floors,
Within its dim lights and fragrant
Candles, within the cheerful friends
And the veiled whispering couples,
The story discloses to the passers-by
The will to dance a tribal ritual
Energised by the rare melodic aether,
Strings of a golden harp revealing
The vivid colours of this garden,
The story now flicks to a different
Chapter as the door cracks open
And the chimes of our steps reach
This realm’s magnificent keepers,
The same ones who forged this
Hideout for us to share something,
So, relax, take a sip, and enter the story.
The old lad and the not-so-old young lad
Started to walk together by the beach,
One had a stick and the other sunglasses,
The night swallowed the rays of lightness,
And crows would appear from the horizon –
Extremely distant that the two lads found
It excruciatingly painful to stare at, and so,
One of them sat on the snow-covered
Deserted unscathed wooden bench that
Was genetically engineered to survive
This apocalyptic world of many shadows,
The old lad went to his pockets and
Spread his palms out where seeds laid
There: warm, still, and totally silent,
The not-so-old young lad was extremely
Observant and stood firm in a great pause,
What he saw was something magical
Where extinct small birds and huge
Pelicans would soar high encircling
Those seeds, but the darkness changes
The beach and a whistling sound alarms
The two lads where they immediately
Walked along the coast in calmness,
One had a stick and the other sunglasses,
The old lad and the not-so-old young lad.
Read, speak, or write,
But never be silent
O human
Weep aloud today for
Tomorrow’s smile,
Or shout silently –
An inner earthquake,
Or an outer volcano,
Whatever you do,
I do, we do,
Try to survive a
Hopeful peace,
Feel, O human, feel –
Feel anger mixed with
Boiling hearts,
Feel sadness crushed
Into your chest,
And fight,
And stand,
As one human,
O human,
O fragile being,
O emotional treasure,
O beautiful creature,
The prey of monsters,
The free soul of a
Whispering nature,
Raise your hands
And pray,
For yourself,
For others,
For me,
Stand and sing
For those who left,
Sing and stand
For those who stayed,
O human, live,
Live, O human,
Live.
Earth Whisperer 