Since you’ve been gone I’m avoiding words Most of all poems Can’t wrap my hand around a pen And advocate the heavenliness of love When I’ve been forcefully converted To a sad poet by its forsaken desires
In a world pregnant with temporary encounters, yet enteral knots, in a world that romanticises and philosophises the abstracts of next lives and alternative universes we dispose in the now.
Every second is some form of a small tomorrow, every passing moment part of the long, long past. The path to the future is paved with repetitions, whether light or dark.
Eternally knotted cyclical patterns betwixt the comedy and tragedy of every breath of air ever taken by souls; likewise every drop of water consumed yet synergised. If only I could take your hand and disseminate to you the Divine plan simultaneously existing in the eternal.
If only … we could samba through the bosom of the storms, cross the space between distance and time, shuck our stranger status, or baptize ourselves in patience’s perfume. Then perhaps we could return to our primordial states, remember the superiority of our ancient nonphysical forms.
In a parallel universe, ancients crouched side by side, chuckling that in some other life they are apart. Ancestral roots, the thread may stretch and tangle, yet never to break with elasticity pinging all order from chaos into being. My lips swerve with the rhythm of your lineage of words flowing through this vessel, the tongue caressing each morsel of wisdom whilst antiquated DNA rides the veins.
I connect to all existences through your umbilical cordage. You are the dawn of entanglements, the prelude to love, the one and only starting point; and I become inseparable from these essences by being enfolded in your spiritual domain.
I had a blast working with this poet! She has so much depth and spirit in her words, and she has a very thought-provoking blog that you can find here: DiosRaw. Make sure you check it out and follow her if you haven’t already done so.
The flowers of the fiction plant rooted in my brain, the voice of the inexpressible feelings hidden in my heart and the eruption of the theories burning in my mind– I made a ball out of the three, threw it high into the sky and it landed right at my blog.