Posts Tagged ‘moon’

Hunger does more miracle if not the being
That settles down among the cold winds.
We’ll arise again and till we become the light,
We’ll fail among those desires every time.
The soul says now to be the song not rhyme.

Why write with ink from our innocent heart?
Why allow the blood to flow through the pen?
Who reads these days, what books we hold?
A sad man stands at the crossroad to meet
And talk to the moon that comes after rain
To tell how clouds swim with dreams so cold.

It’s bleak or brazen or burns like a furnace,
Yes, our heart that melts with passing time.
If not, we stand tall and help wipe the tears
And bring smile to a lonely traveler’s face,
We must buy the thought and again rhyme
We have not grown but gone with the years.


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What amateur beats in the heart of this holy fire?
Only feathers burn beleaguered in the prism of time.
The wind that shines with this shivering soul
Flies far to those distant memories and rhyme,
Restless, reared wretches of the ruptured goal.

What ink does this vein blow with so much hatred?
So much in itself, so much making moments mourn.

The Swans now sail among the whiteness of the moon,
Among the coldness of the calm uncounted morning.
What blindness has these generations brought so soon?
Our soul doesn’t hold the wealth we gathered in living.
There is this breath that goes so deep, so much making
The vision blurred and ears yearning to true love’s tune.

We are the immortals, only we know when we leave.
We are the smiles we see, we are all that we give.

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The sea was unquiet, when we met under the late moon;
And there was enough water to heal our tired feet,
For we took the journey no one else could have thought.
We loved, we kissed, and we stood with time, bravely fought
With hope that stands like the lantern in the temple street,
Where more than our faces we see our own shadows grow.

Someday, freedom will bring you to read these lines, to live
All that I ever dreamt, you will absorb when my heart sings.
Like swans meet in this blue water, often touched by the wind.
I will love you for I have a fearless heart that crossed the rings
Of tradition, that doesn’t count more, and teachers who will give
A reason to beat for our heart, a light to guide our ancient soul.

We will remain away, and we will remain truly but in love,
We will live the remaining props that will save our worlds.
We will breathe and eat suppers and drink with tears tossed.
And time shall pass, springs and autumns will cross the worlds
That we built in ignorance, to make us free like a loving dove.

I announce you not my friend, nor muzzled in a mad menace
Of the storm that shall pass, but in the gold gulped glory
That I love you so much and can stand the long winter in grace.
It’s not a Troy we dreamt, nor a family of crowded story.
We will meet soon beyond the clouds, beyond the cold moon.
Death is just a breath that will make everything meaningless.

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Peace is not poured until we pass the prism
Of mind, filled with echoes of a ruined glory.
An old teacher with his tattered clothes and beard,
Romping in rugged, restless reasons of this world
Will not guide until there is music in his story.

And when it plays, it plays like an orchestra of love,
Of memories in muddled pages of one’s history.
There is a flute at distance so much in tune,
That can surrender my feelings that shiver and shove.
Turn over like an old leaf, a thought that doesn’t weigh more.
A parable of love, life and light sung in glory.
I have not lost, not lurched, not an old acre grown
In these years and the leaves that I crossed in tear.
Just a drop, a dazzle, the wind, a victory, a whisper,
All fill this emptied sepulchral loneliness of the moon.
A wish that I can see my men stand together.

I will come back again, I have the phoenix in me alive.
I will not count the memories, but more love to give.

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Among winding reeds something stands
So tall that I am amazed with my heart;
There are dark, eloquence enticed hands
Reading rumours among rusted strands.

We sing and dance with lost souls around,
There is a great day that all eyes dream
But no single soul touches the silver sand.
Not drunk, nor deserted, but have found
The blue crystal moon beyond life’s stream.

Someday we will meet at some crossroad,
With hands flowing to touch and console.
We will but discover the same eyes and years
We have lived craving for peace and stifled
Desires to draught among barren whispers
Of fake and frozen beauties wrapped in gold.

But hope is like a stubborn cliff that will stand
Beside the sea among tempests to prove;
That we live under the same leaves and land,
We hope, harvest and still crave for love.

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A nest tussled on the pathway,
A handful of feathers scattered;
Like twigs broken but still rough
Our apparitions stand tall and long.
Because I am the witness to all
I am the wind that passes unaltered,
I am the moment that is shrouded
In velvet, among victory and vanquish
Of our kind and all that lists melody.

The choirs stand again, the thoughts
Fly like an ambush of the night birds.
The tear drops now and again
For the battles not fought so far
Bounded for an undying reason.
Among friends and accomplished
Episodes of experiences enchanted,
I will but remain in the bust of love
And spread the same old smile and tell
The tale of our genre and our genius.

I will stand again after every dialogue
Of soul and the mind, for I am Love.
The search will not stop in mortal minds;
In search there is joy, there is life,
There is a Troy of thoughts and time
Defies human attempt and will prove
The meaning of this voyage untold.

In search there is a joy, there is love;
I will but wait under the waning moon.
Time is not time, torment is not a test
Until the soul’s tide comes true to rest.

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I will make way for you; I will arise and go,
Among countryside men and women;
I hear the symphony so silent, so pure.
What have I lost, and gained in this war?
I stand now with corpses here and there,
Scattered like vermillion on the floor.
I see the musician playing flute so soft,
And surreal strokes under the dead moon,
I see an old cavern with light from heaven.

I searched for gothic gods in this desert,
A woman and byzantine gold so embraced;
There is no oasis in these dreams but hurt
My heart with pain and long love laced.

A Sun as bright as if no need for a second,
A road so long as will turn a river full of tears.
I listened to the furls of the girdle so wild.
In winter this desert will be cold at night,
With no creatures but the serpent’s hiss.
I am unfolding this journey now or never,
To see what tomorrow unfolds in light.

After countless steps this journey doesn’t end,
But just changes its meaning now to mend
The woes of the soul, these occurrences so wild.
Let me stand for a while and pray my stars,
My God that has not lost hope in my tears,
And my chiselled fate from here to guide.
This odyssey will remain now on stones,
To guide all souls that has covered miles
Of agony, anguish and admired smiles.

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