I sit watching hesitantly, a room with an audience, rooms that hear voices- colors of the many; humans/people.

I urge to take the stand, but a hand holds my troubled heart back- a substitute narrator/ or/ the Pen Holder.

Who are they

Who are they to say I have no sword?!

My sword is my voice, air thought caught in a cyclone

I breathe

I think

Somewhere out there lies my truth-

Somewhere here lies the answer


A Taste of This Moment.

Within this world, I laid naked on a cool rock, smooth beneath my skin like white sand on my feet. My belly flooded with pondering thoughts, my eyes had filled with blue water, looking at him. 

One would start to think, how much of this poison will take me under? But gently forget as their lips taste that little bit of heaven. 

Music soars through my ears and gently caresses my heart. I cry with serenity that floods my insides out. I cry in fear if this is what it is to live. I cry with sometimes never knowing, but looking into his eyes, mirrors one thing; hope in love. 

Love is… life’s gift. And once someone learns, gives, and is given it, how could one let go of it?

With gentle awareness I awake

Slowly but surely, blooms have mistakes,

Crossing out the crashing tidal waves,

I push two steps forward, sometimes almost doubling back. 

Sharing words, 

Sharing lives,

Sharing complete outer-world vibes,

You bleed, I bleed; we all die, 

But a few actually have seen what life really is. 

Perfect Hemisphere

She was more drawn out to the belief of keeping a certain subject as broad as God in a blissful oblivion absent to thought. Nothing could be possibly known more, because it was only created. Every starting thing was made simple, yet structural. But with the branches of life and the seeds of time that dissolve through sand, we were made unique and erratic, all minds wishing upon the same desire but motioned out differently, that’s why life as a whole can be chaotic at times. We were meant to find the moments that would take our breath away, not live droned out to the dying pulse in our veins that weigh us down. It’s never possible to be the same as one, only carry the same traits and characteristics that grown on each other. It is only by the self of one that can connect like the half circle if the other self was in one. She wrote it down, trying to escape reality when she felt drowned in her thoughts, unable to word the worry or the drum that keeps beating her down. She writes to know herself and forgets often. Why does she lose thought often? It’s like the harder she concentrates more of the thought process will shaken. Maybe she’s been trying too much, maybe she has been trying too little- but she knows that isn’t what she thinks, that is what the ego mind wants her to think, all negative thoughts on the Self drains its energy, leaving the mind empty, and vulnerable to attacks, leading her astray from Self-fulfillment. The thoughts have been moving slower, as the concentration has been growing. It is only repetition that allows the mind and body to be accustomed to changes that is not yet mastered. It takes patience, and a whole lot of time. As one leads a life of light and self-enrichment, it’s only natural withinside to spread the knowledge of ones self growth and enlightened existence. There’s always effort that is put into every action, but within knowing your Self, it should be effortless.

Already There.

Struggling to find a balance yet the balance is nearing closer, like a consistent circle drawn; effortless, yet not all circles come out perfectly- there will never be an outside balance, because what is a want from the outside is a wish for the ego inside. Scolding the mind, scolding internally to not sway away from the perfect line; for we were perfectly made imperfectly. Losing thought often, losing the track of balance, but thankfully acknowledging that; the path grows less narrower everyday- for everyday is a positive experience drawn out differently in its own way. We were all born as what we are; spontaneous atoms- idealists looking for truths of the unknown- creating the not thought of.

Meditulip Springs

Deep inside a hollow heart

Stitched in between chained lies

A seed was planted and hope has sprouted, 

Clouds darkened over…

Hope relinquished its light, but the seed stayed alive, it’s blooms shining when the sun had come out, sadly looking at the sun to replenish what had fled 


She waits 

Lost it, It SeemsĀ 

An urge of the mind sometimes wants me to end my life quickly- throwing myself over railings, crashing head on at 100mph, consuming multitude of colorful pills, falling onto broken shards of glass, pulling a ghastly trigger-exploding my brain amongst the floor and walls that were painted red with the pain that floods my head. All of these are inviting- yet I still fear the sensation of the air in my lungs being invaded by the water incasing my body- the sensation of drowning not offering me a quick relief, only a suffocating death I recognized to fear more then the poke of an eye. I fantasize about my death often; how, when, even where it could happen… Even though I fear my end, I oddly greet it as time ticks slowly on a padlock that holds grim truths. I could curse the world and the habitants who live on it, but it is I who subconsciously laughs at my own self loathing, the black pit in my stomach that lurches at my doubts and worries, my fears amplifying as I feel I’m being launched back into a familiar past feeling I spite more then myself. I laugh often at nothing, because I feel as if I’m slowly edging into the pool of Hell, only to be beckoned out to be thrown back in- 

Maybe I’m throwing myself back in.