Category Archives: Balance

Speak

Balance, Courage, D, Pain, Solitude, Something Like Poetry

I shiver beneath this self-imposed silence
subjugating my hair-tearing compulsion
to speak, to discuss, to reach: to connect
through words, through ideas, through vision.
No. For once, I strive to connect through silence.

For when our silences lack attunement
words are destined to fail.
The thread-bare palette of our understanding
stands disgraced; look me in the eye
speak with your kindness, show me you care.

Revive the meaning in our words, speak
from the strength of your silence–
speak just this once, speak for us both;
speak to warm the heart through the mind,
speak to vanquish this bitter distance.

I choose to forgive

Balance, Courage, Dissonance, Forgiveness, Pain, Random Lines

I am sad tonight
I have no idea how
I ended up in this lonely place

I spoke about you
To a stranger who I thought had
Become a friend

I spoke about me, too
I don’t think that was a mistake
I spoke out loud many things

And it seemed
To hit a wall in him, and I
Observed this rather helplessly

Some people will
Understand instantly, and some
Will simply never grasp

I have learnt I can
Choose to feel bad or let go
But more importantly to forgive

Desire…

Balance, Courage, Dissonance, Letting Go, Longing

I dont speak out of self pity
Im only accutely aware of its many
wicked faces-
Im simply observant of my hearts
deepest desire to disappear;
it lies darkly, softly, ever so silently
alongside its brighter counterpart:
the desire for love.

The line that separates them
that subtle imaginary line
as these are merely concepts
created out of the necessity
of language;
that line which grows, ever so steadily
indistinct: Im afraid I might be too late
in arriving there.

silvery fishes

Balance, Courage, Dissonance, Nostalgia, Pain, Something Like Love, Something Like Poetry, , , , , ,

you have no more words for me, my love
perhaps i’ve exhausted all words between us
yet the sea on my side is a swell,
and its waves crash strong on my lonely shores

i have always loved the clear blue skies and snow
now i know, i’ll also always love the silvery fishes
i know you wish me well, and that i’ll find
my own hands to hold and heal my pain

A day will come

Balance, Courage, Dream, Hope, Something Like Love, Something Like Poetry

A day will come
when your health might fade
no matter how you kept yourself active
no matter how much you ran
no matter how much you laughed.

A day will come
when your heart might fail
no matter how vigilant your diet
how organic your preference
how agile your body.

A day will come
when all accumulated wealth
and relationhsips, will wither away
even their trace in memory
your mind might fail to recover.

A day will come
when it wont matter where we
stand in time, which date it is on a calender;
simply if we loved enough
if we felt loved in return.

A day will come
when we will know it doesnt take
a healthy lifestyle, it doesnt take a whole lifetime
for the poetry of our heart
to recreate a deep love in us, despite us.

In the dead of the night

Balance, Longing, Solitude, Something Like Poetry

In the dead of the night, with a burning skin
I sit here outside in our garden, silently
staring into the starless
city sky that graces my eyes.

I listen quietly to the sound of life
around me in the bushes and on the
rain drenched walls as my own internals
rumble away gently.

Who says I have little appreciation for nature,
or for my own external life.
I feel the raw breathing of life, in most things I do
as I reflect on the way I live.

If there is anything I would like to change
it is to have the courage to keep harnessing this energy
this spiritual force of my seeking
to continue loving, and living.

And hoping that love will find me
and when it does, it finds me worthy of this wait;
worthy in its eye to forgive my human flaws
and love me despite it.

Rain

Balance, Courage, Hope, Longing, Something Like Love, Something Like Poetry, Wonder

I dont have the faith of a great god
moving in me;
I dont exercise
to keep my heart beat low.
I dont work, I dont interact enough, I hear you say,
to keep my brilliant mind in context.
I dont ebb and flow with life
to keep my balance right.

I belong to the age of Holocaust
nothing can bid my faith anymore
but love.
It is not something I chase, it is also not my religion
it is who I am.
And inside me there is
a stark barren land, parched and scarred-
nothing left to seed, nothing left to grow.
My inner stare asks me:
what am I still doing here;
I bow and acknowledge:
the mysterious life force, the force behind my hope-
my religion, then maybe: Rain.

my life

Balance, Courage, Letting Go, Longing, Poetry, , , , ,

can I say to you, my life
i am tired of being courageous
of being the one to still have a dream
and a hope
I long to be carried
held and loved in abandon
like a leaf to grow and reach for the sun
but I know I will fall
somewhere into the dust
for I have lived my share
protected many a bud
that flowered, flourished and withered
and now I am ripe to fall
and there is no hand in sight
except yours,
and I am grateful
to return to your embrace

Suspended

Balance, Letting Go, Longing, Pain, Poetry, Wonder,

Another intense day
after a marathon night of words-
one day or night
plucked out of
an unrecognizable haze of time
and I find myself suspended,
in-between.
Today
I resolved
to live in the moments as they came;
today
I decided
to not think about you
to break my thoughts
every time you entered the picture
in my mind, as a word, as a sound, as a feeling, as a desire;
and I am amazed, to discover
the way I have let you into my world
in the little time I have known you-
days countable on my finger tips.
But I am not ashamed
though I have no clue, how this could be possible;
and through the day
I wondered: if this is a serious concern,
and I decided it is.
Because despite my decision
to stop
I am still carrying you every moment
without cease.
What kind of a stop is that?
I ask myself, annoyed.
This continuous torture
if anything, is self imposed, I assert.
But what self am I talking of?
A self that is shared with you?
How can I be the only one
to have access or control
of that part of me
shared with you?
Something that is so intimately shared
no longer belongs to me, alone.

I haven’t stopped thinking of you
since I last saw you in weeks.
Every moment there is you-
one way or the other.
And its not just this crazy poetry-
I talk to you in my head
when I am awake
and I sleep with you in the night;
stopping by the dairy
or nodding at the grocery guy
or walking back home
at the steps
I see you
as you so often kissed me goodbye
or greeted me with a smile.
Opening the door, to enter
I see myself, opening the door to you
and letting you in
without being self conscious, or so I thought;
I had an intense arousal
from the moment I laid my eyes on you
and felt your touch when you took my hand in yours
and I led you, as usual, to my room,
in my imagination.
I have not thought once
what would you say, what would I say;
I am surprised to sense, the words inevitable end
not occur in our encounter, as you had feared-
every thing looked fluid and tinged with love,
while we experienced each other.