the timeless flower
the freshness of today
The last one standing in the crowd.
The one who doesn’t like the music oh-so-loud.
The one who wishes, whispers, moves, and changes.
The one who breathes within and rearranges.
The one who gathers the crumbs and feeds the birds by the lake.
The one who never mistrusts or assumes.
The one who lets the bird out of its cage.
The one unafraid to suffer or pay the prices of living so boldly.
The one who hears the bells and climbs all the way up the stairs.
The one who is dancing in silence.
The one who knows you will hurt and he will be there.
The one who will gather you in your arms as if you are leaves.
The one who will transmit through your palms light beams…
I deserved the pain, God.
I deserved every single scratch and bruise, and loss.
I deserved it all.
Now I trust.
He took the typewriter from the trash
and sold it,
unaware that he would meet her.
It seems I only told the truth
about what I have lived
to the strangers,
wanders, explorers, warriors,
and possibly some souls in danger.
They had nothing to gain, nothing to lose.
I never once told it to the ones that claimed they love me.
And I turned my head to the Sun,
hoping when it will fall behind the hill as slowly as it should.
You and me, we type, every single day we type
until someday… the typewriters disappear
and we can dance into their light.
To you I seem light on the outside, I know.
Dancing and swirling,
frivolous, beautiful, good.
You underline all these words happily,
sitting softly in the clouds of your heart.
you don’t know all the storms which have passed.
You didn’t hear the sadness of the guitars,
that didn’t arrive
or how I broke all the strings of attachment,
nor the blissful dying of all that I was.
You didn’t know how many times
I remained all alone,
till I started loving reclusion
more than this room full of people and songs.
I was demolished, and scratched, broken in two,
penetrated with the wounds of this world.
And I barely survived
in a vast sea of voices,
when in truth
I hoping to hear
Let them fly away. Set them free and thrive. Keep the illusions that will bring you to the truthfulness and all the rest.. let’s leave aside. Our stubbornness, our momentary weakness, our falsehood in a way. What is it with this world, you come… you live for a second and it paints you with the colors of its rays. We live inside reflections, where is the home within ourselves? We spare everything in split second, we can lose everything and love along the way.
Who knew this time around, we come as if we are balloons. Bubbles, little bubbles, of the crowd. While you are outside with everyone, you always live a lie. Stay alone and learn the lesson, the crowds will have to wait a while.
And since you tend to dive with your head straight inside the clouds, remember heartbreak is the lesson of the faintest, rise above the motives and the trial. When everything just seems unreal, perhaps you entered a labyrinth you have to navigate. When all is dimmed, look for the first you knew and not the second, for he is the only one who keeps you, dear.
If you understand the instructions, you may find your way home.
The love you had is not a good.
Love is not a trade, you know.
The love you had is never lost,
but when you forget to water,
it doesn’t grow.
When you find yourself
surrounded in the darkest woods,
Love will come and play its part.
I’m not in love –
Love runs through me.
It showers everything it meets.
And trust me,
it is not my fault
if people have become devoid.
Did you ever ask yourself,
how you became who you are today?
I like dead ends,
it’s where I made a lot of friends.
I like the glory of
an honest story,
the man who waits for
the lover of his dreams.
I like the words of a stranger,
as I wait on the train,
I have been careless
and you seem to be in danger
with these men.
do you think you can meet me again?
Beware of the Tender Heart.
…of the sparks it sends out when it’s open.
Beware of moving stars.
When Love enters,
you and I are helpless.
You will finally be free of You.
I will be finally free of Me.
We will be emptied like old bottles,
we will be smashed like the
papers of the writer.
Our beautiful disaster
will play a small role in the Rising Sun…
One sun ray will escape the glory of the Heavens
and enter someone else’s heart.
The steel will become tender.
If you had any idea what a Soul endures through Eternity, you would be forever humbled.
Awake. Compassionate. Infused with life, with fire.
Once again, a stranger saved me and reminded me of every chance I got.
My simple words may not be enough for you right now, I know.
While you are chasing this and that in this big wild world outside.
That wild world has poisoned your heart, my beloved.
My promise through the ages was to shake up your castle of security.
Release your heart.
I will meet you on the other side when we are both washed clean…
On the shore.
I had a dream… I dreamed my life is over.
All bitterness – forgotten.
There was a Soul standing on the shore…
Source: Poetry of The Guest
I didn’t really know
if what I do will die or grow.
I only felt a gentle touch of higher realms,
much higher than the ones I know.
Then my insecurity became my base
and it turned it was,
a better base than those
who build their place regardless
of their Souls.
I kept and kept on going,
till I reached the summit.
I would climb
both with my feet and with my hands
only so that
raise my Spirit.
All the obstacles ahead were blinking lights,
some of the writers that I met
(shhh, don’t tell!)
were all somehow
But one day recently
I heard a voice that said:
Don’t you worry, my beloved
Nothing real in you could ever die.
All is transient, don’t worry.
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