Posted in Art Scene, Books, Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Nature, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Relationships, Religion, Science, Social Commentary, Society, Travel, tagged able, acceptance, afloat, albeit, all, ambiguous, approach, art, become, being, blur, broken, call, canvas, common, completeness, confident, contain, creation, crumple, darkness, definition, destiny, dictate, difference, discover, distance, dot, doubt, down, dream, dry, dust, eraser, Film, flaw, fragile, friend, get, gleam, glister, graphite, great, heart, heavy, hope, horizon, immaculate, immortality, indentation, indirect, jag, keep, know, let, light, lightness, line, live, living, mark, matter, mess, mold, mosaic, move, new, noise, notice, only, own, page, paper, peace, plate, poem, poetry, quite, reality, repeat, rinse, see, seek, seem, separation, shadow, sink, smear, smudge, soap, soil, someone, something, soul, space, stall, still, stop, strive, subside, sud, surface, swipe, throw, toward, trace, try, unbroken, uncompromise, unsplintered, unwaver, visible, visual, wait, wash, water, way, white, whole, work, write, you on January 31, 2012|
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It’s like a white plate.
Soiled and you try to wash it afloat
with suds of soap and rinse repeatedly
at the sink. Letting it dry and wait
until the film of water subsides down
into its gleamy surface. You try to contain
the glister. The immaculateness of being
unbroken, unsplintered. Fragile.
It’s like a white paper.
Someone will throw dots and smears.
Smudges and graphite dusts messed up
into your page and jag the lines into visual noise.
But then, an eraser is a confident friend,
swiping them all. Albeit, the indentation
marks a heavy trace on the heart. Not quite
visible at the distance, I know.
You didn’t notice how I try to write the lines.
Ambiguous as it seems, indirect in its approach.
You think flaws are the darkness of the soul, but wait-
it isn’t that way you know, though. For in it you hope.
You dream. You strive to become the light.
You seek to define the completeness of your whole,
unwavering and uncompromised to the mold-
the dictates of the common.
No matter how broken it may get, the mosaic
of the plate is still a creation on a canvas.
No matter how crumpled the paper was,
someone will see it as a great work of art.
You try to accept the way you live your reality,
where living doesn’t stop there, it’s in how
you would be able to discover something new.
A difference you can call your own.
It’s like a white space.
When the horizon of doubt blurs
the line that separate you from immortality.
And all you see is your own lightness
that no shadow would keep you
stalled towards your destiny.
There, you would know that peace
is the only way to move on.
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Solitude Amidst the Maddening Crowd
Whiteness Of Being
Posted in Art Scene, Books, Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Nature, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Relationships, Religion, Science, Social Commentary, Society, Travel, tagged able, acceptance, afloat, albeit, all, ambiguous, approach, art, become, being, blur, broken, call, canvas, common, completeness, confident, contain, creation, crumple, darkness, definition, destiny, dictate, difference, discover, distance, dot, doubt, down, dream, dry, dust, eraser, Film, flaw, fragile, friend, get, gleam, glister, graphite, great, heart, heavy, hope, horizon, immaculate, immortality, indentation, indirect, jag, keep, know, let, light, lightness, line, live, living, mark, matter, mess, mold, mosaic, move, new, noise, notice, only, own, page, paper, peace, plate, poem, poetry, quite, reality, repeat, rinse, see, seek, seem, separation, shadow, sink, smear, smudge, soap, soil, someone, something, soul, space, stall, still, stop, strive, subside, sud, surface, swipe, throw, toward, trace, try, unbroken, uncompromise, unsplintered, unwaver, visible, visual, wait, wash, water, way, white, whole, work, write, you on January 31, 2012| 4 Comments »
It’s like a white plate.
Soiled and you try to wash it afloat
with suds of soap and rinse repeatedly
at the sink. Letting it dry and wait
until the film of water subsides down
into its gleamy surface. You try to contain
the glister. The immaculateness of being
unbroken, unsplintered. Fragile.
It’s like a white paper.
Someone will throw dots and smears.
Smudges and graphite dusts messed up
into your page and jag the lines into visual noise.
But then, an eraser is a confident friend,
swiping them all. Albeit, the indentation
marks a heavy trace on the heart. Not quite
visible at the distance, I know.
You didn’t notice how I try to write the lines.
Ambiguous as it seems, indirect in its approach.
You think flaws are the darkness of the soul, but wait-
it isn’t that way you know, though. For in it you hope.
You dream. You strive to become the light.
You seek to define the completeness of your whole,
unwavering and uncompromised to the mold-
the dictates of the common.
No matter how broken it may get, the mosaic
of the plate is still a creation on a canvas.
No matter how crumpled the paper was,
someone will see it as a great work of art.
You try to accept the way you live your reality,
where living doesn’t stop there, it’s in how
you would be able to discover something new.
A difference you can call your own.
It’s like a white space.
When the horizon of doubt blurs
the line that separate you from immortality.
And all you see is your own lightness
that no shadow would keep you
stalled towards your destiny.
There, you would know that peace
is the only way to move on.
Read Full Post »