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Posts Tagged ‘time’

How in a moment, everything ends, everything in a breath?
Everything we made, we hoped, we promised in these years,
And then all leaves in a spur to that mired and muzzled woods.
Am like that ancient moment, now sitting and looking at faith,
The one that lives inside me and says ‘now no more tears.’

This stone is so cold now, like a spring dumped by winter,
This air is so honest to tell, time has come, yes it has come.
No urge, no fear, but like a monk will walk into that darkness,
And let faith hold my finger again and lead so swiftly hereafter,
With the small little light, that still I am, I will someday be home.

That gratitude, our ancestry taught through the realms they lived,
I now pass it over to you, for many more will come even after.
Someday, when you are alone again, you will only find me so near.
I will go now with my paints and nothing more, to colour that sky,
Dip my fingers again, into that smiling stream, and bid goodbye.

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Wish I vacate this stage soon enough, soon again
For more darkness to cover and in quiet, give birth
To more light that will guide every passerby in tune
With dusted steps leading to the sepulcher of a saint.
Who says death ends and life blooms, who dreams
Among the surreal symphonies of a sundry sand dune?
Who in life could defy the destined end with a mirth?
Who could stand through the spring and fall again?

In tempests we don’t tremble, with ignorance we do,
Among the rainbow streaks we seek often differences,
We fall to rise again and we often die, to be born sane.
He who speaks is not a monument of time, nor fences
The fear and hope of our soul, nor seeks what is true.
He who listens to the wind and touches the life of time,
Stands taller to laugh at every feat, our ego attains.
We will soon someday meet again and greet the dew.

I am neither old, nor crawling with the softest dream;
I am time, join me to sail through the unending stream.

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Yes, it is a symphony, very much here and now;
Pause at this moment and gather all the dreams,
All hope, and all that everyone wished us ever.
Fear is like a tattered coat, why wear it anymore,
Not thorns, but the beauty every rose is known for.

Who says you are alone among those dark towers?
Who says we are left only with the bleak hours?
Gather your breath and close the eyes for a while,
There stands the God we search, there is the smile,
There’s more heaven when we see the sky in this isle.

Those soft leaves of love now turn forever into gold,
Those faces like apparitions far disappear in cold.
Not enough time then remains for an adieu or ahoy,
Some lives are not chosen but become stars as told
Some moments that we wish much to become forever.

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A broken wooden bench over a spread of ivy all over,
As if it hides those footprints of a distant love and life.
There I see flowers occasionally touching the air over
And murmur the silent whispers of my hopeful wife
That they hear from those years of struggle and fear,
Among the many hopes, everything that stands so dear.

Oh! What fear makes? What clutters this cold mind now?
We played characters, both strong and weak with time,
We hunted and allowed to be grabbed in the gusts
Among those years, with one single hope for a life
That is beautiful, that is holding each other and rhyme
The spirit of life sitting beside the waves of this world.

Time plays the greatest comedy, for it brings justice
To every breath that we think we accomplish in life;
Time sings the greatest music, for it sounds rhythms
Of love, no matter what strings we touch with hymns
Anchored by our soul, served in light, a sublime piece.
Have faith, love alone stays as every other bird flies.

Here and now, just pause and remember the first sight,
The first spring that we chose to journey and then cross
The summer and the fall all together with the courage
That repeats life again and again, no matter what name,
What thoughts will teach us, what actions will journey,
We are surely now in an endless love forever and ever.

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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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Among these sun-filled eyes and dust kissed lips
There’s a tale of a tempest that madness whips.
Hand to hand trusts too with a heart holding love
While there are scattered visions of unending hope.
Among these decrepit steps of this temple of faith
We will not gaze deep into the sculptures of science,
But more at the art rising in the distant horizon.

There stand these visions we had like our fathers
Of all generations who hold their child’s finger
To lead through, to greet all and to bid farewell
When done enough with time and tests of life.
Faith is a great magic, holds the breath of ours
When in need and let go when we are set to sail.
Time echoes, the time we live forever and ever.

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In these desolate hours of an unending night,
I see the moonlit rocks cut into the steps of art.
The steps are in stone, the ones so entrenched
Through the times we lived, in the hours of heart.
Why flicker with fate, why foster nests unknown?
Why tamper the torrid tests of time that moan?

The world we know is gone to sleep, now in dream.
The moments stand altogether stronger in rhyme.
Soul knows no scented evening full of velvet course;
The women, the wine, the literature all look grim.
Freedom, that I seek, is no escape but grow my soul
Into a swan that shall cover the waves of reason.

A distant friend, a beauty almost in faraway land;
Not love, nor treason, but souls that I see in dust,
Make these emotions distant, devoid of the death,
Devoid of barren brazen boasting beats of sound.

I will meet you at some crossroad again and ask,
If it meant sense to have covered with the mask.
Am I insane, induced with engulfing enticed illusion?
Or you were the time that chiseled me into a man?

When I meet you, I will ask!

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