Every battle
turns war.
Like an interlude
rising into chorus.
Swords moving through the silhouettes,
and the vital red
falls
to the floor
Just like that minor chord
that makes the score.
Forgiveness
Silence.
Stillness.
Peace.
Fulfillness.
Watching
the quiet roads.
Watching the clouds
cry to the earth
in despair. View Post
Austere
Not beautiful.
Not “aesthetic”.
Not wonderful.
No exquisite epiphany.
No great thoughtful story.
Just simple
broken
life.
An image
of ordinary strife. View Post
The Man Out of Time
I decide everyday
that I won’t write about you today.
That I won’t drop what I’m doing
to watch you walk past me,
that I won’t stop to listen
when you speak to all but me.
Yes, I decide everyday
that I won’t be so obsessive. View Post
Jaisalmer – The Golden City of India
In a place where yellow sandstone buildings imbue a golden light to the city, one can’t help but believe in magic. The expert craftsmanship of the historical architecture of Jaisalmer makes the stone come alive; there are stories etched into the carvings, and regality transcends time. Just standing in one of the palace gardens can transport you to the old world of royalty, imperial celebrations, and ethnic luxury.
View Post
Reykjavík — Home to the Aurora Borealis
Rated the third happiest city in the world, Reykjavík is Iceland’s largest city and lies on the coast. “Reykjavík” roughly translates to “Cove of Smoke” in English, which may be attributed to the volcanoes and smoke around what is now the capital city of Iceland. With its distinctive seasons, the best time to travel to Reykjavík is between June and August, when the sun shines almost twenty-four hours a day and the weather is mild and pleasant. View Post
Love Remains A Question
Love
remains a question.
Its meaning.
Its virtue.
Its essence—
an illusion.
Unanswered
through the ages,
yet legislated
in poems. View Post
Le Ciel Teinté en Amour
Le coucher du soleil
par-delà les montagnes,
sa beauté,
sa doré,
et le ciel teinté
en amour
du soleil.
Et l’amour du soleil
est le ciel brun-doré.
La couleur du soir
lorsqu’il part l’azuré.
The Moon Hath Not Returned
I look up
as the night
is laced through
the long fingers of the forest.
the long fingers of the forest.
They reach up
and caress the stars.
There are the gushes
and gleams
of joy.
The merrymaking
of love
in nature.
Captive of Love
With you,
loyalty is destiny.
An instinct
I can’t fight
I don’t want to fight.
Because
it is that much of me
that resides in you,
that I
am the surrender.
That I
am the defeat
of my heart. View Post
White Camellia
You’re the white camellia
I’ve been hunting in my wildforest.
I’ve been hunting in my wildforest.
Roaming through the woods,
I’ve been seeking
that scentless purity
to fill my soul,
to revive me,
to renew me…
…to forgive me.
Co-incide
The irony.
That deep, divine love
I have for you.
As if it were the will
of the Gods.
And yet,
the deep, dark feeling,
that you and I
are not meant to be. View Post
