It starts with brokenness,
being married to a silent wail,
having all the words at your disposal,
and no ears to receive them,
being so melodic,
that heaven yearns for you,
and yet so detached from everything and everyone,
that you’d never be missed.
I see that,
more so, I feel it.
I ache to connect to it,
to let it know, that I know,
and yet it remains,
I’m not at all inspired,
by people that have no room,
for being empty,
people that flee from broken heartedness,
people that don’t know,
watching you grow and rebuild,
is what is most beautiful about you.
Music by Dhafer Youssef Quartet – Les Ondes Orientales
Don’t be jealous,
when my attention is taken,
and my heart throngs,
for more than what your flesh can give.
Don’t be zealous,
all is not forsaken,
just hush, it wont be long,
and in your silence I may be able to live.
Intimacy is still possible,
with people who hate one another,
this often happens,
when you stare in the mirror long enough,
what’s different then,
in being enthralled and appalled at once,
reconciling and irreconcilable,
in a union of secret eloping with your inner most bits.
Oh the thought,
of being twice inside myself,
unrecognisable to my eye’s eye,
so alone I can’t ever know anything but the depth of a pale stare,
of everything that was the colour blue,
turned to a blank whisper of semblance.
amongst the perishables,
a recanting syncopation of heart pulse,
and counting litanies on phalanges,
in that epiphany of knowing,
that the decorative’s of this world are non existent,
the simplest of pleasures,
be it the breath of an infant,
or a ground coffee bean,
as you reconcile with your innateness,
that is, to deny being source-less,
and lose the amnesia you had,
clear the fog of being mad,
that your endless chase to be seen,
stopped you from seeing what deserved to be seen,
and being madly instead.
What bounty He might be,
if I only took my allotted place as I should,
forge my soul with fire, hammer and fire,
until the mere mention of it cuts me down.
They lied to you,
learning how to think slowly,
is the most profound thing you can do.
If this is default,
ignore the urge of society trying to change you.
There is only loss in between,
obscurity and events unseen,
when your focus is so blurred,
and speed is what you fiend.
Instead, slow your breath,
and take three more between them,
learn the art of slowing down time too,
so you comprehend events in micro-chasms,
so the movements of anything coming your way are intercept-able at will.
This includes your own thoughts firing at you,
your ego commanding incessantly,
your limbs going places they shouldn’t.
When you can slow it all down,
inversely, your speed will be imperceptible.
No one will believe in your cause,
the agenda will always surface to the top.
Instead of people empathising with you,
standing alongside you,
even if in disagreement with you,
they’ll see through your need for attention,
and treat you accordingly.
And how do we treat,
the most common seekers of attention,
that is, children?
Like they’re incapable
How ironic then,
that you act so childishly,
yet expect to be treated like a capable adult.
The lustre of the outside world has lost its appeal,
blossoming doesn’t mean anything more than a closer step to dying,
just another vying,
ornamental display of superficiality,
a one way ticket to mortality,
and when the petals wither away,
down drops the seeds of vitality,
ironically, that life giving force,
the soul of this fleshen cycle,
is always an inside thing.
Why then are you afraid of folding,
of caving inside until you are outwardly nothing.