Quiet towns - dated, Farms, hills, a peaceful river, A break from the rush.
Category: Poetry
A Cape Town Haiku:
On the horizon,
Mountains, pale, just visible,
Or maybe they’re clouds.
Know ye not that ye are Gods? Yet, even Gods can’t manufacture moments, Unique instances, Interactions, Between beings. Know ye not that ye eternal? Yet, everlasting energy constantly flows, Shifting always, Moment merges into moment, Another gone by. Be still sacred moment. Let me be with you for a while, Your Now was my purpose, For creating this existence. Let me marvel, At the consequences of this game, This serendipitous state before me, Not even I could have forged this, Never will This be again. Know ye not that ye are Gods? Eternal. Everlasting energy. Yet, each moment is momentary, And some of them I long to hold on to.
TF
Empty glamour, Escapism, Please don't let us realise what is, Is........ This is. Is this it?
Sunday Morning in San Francisco
Wake up,
Watch the market traders set up their stalls,
The homeless stirring in their sleeping bags,
Another rough night.
Their world forgotten.
Hopeful endeavours and broken souls.
TF
Sometimes you find a place,
A quiet recess of the world.
And wonder:
Why isn’t everyone here?
This is where it’s at.
TF
Melt into the mountains,
Dissolve into the stars,
Soar into infinite is-ness,
For you are all that you are.
The Self
An urge, a pressure governs it,
Mastering the soul like a command,
The suppressed-self silenced,
Erupts and ravages an internal land.
Lost in this world,
Restricted by form,
Freed by constraint.
The Relationship
In the beginning all he could see was beauty,
Pure prodigy,
Conflict wasn’t a part of his consciousness yet.
Play was all he sought and smiles all he received,
But with age came awareness,
Of pain endured prior to his presence.
Ongoing wars.
He gazed into eyes of anguish, which previously portrayed love,
Longing for adoration, lost and left behind,
He explored her landscape and emotions,
Searching for understanding,
Wondering whether withdrawal was the way,
Or just weakness of his will.
With perception came possibility,
Could he heal the hurt?
Some had tried but few had succeeded,
When they did it seemed temporary,
And they perished for their presumptions of peace.
Responsibility revealed further fissures,
He realized his own past was tainted too,
Her past was his past.
A broken soul amongst broken souls,
Surrounded by suffering,
Recurring rituals.
The tragedy of time,
The terror of eternity,
In facing this he found firmament.
And she welcomed him once again with open arms.
Some Words Left Behind 