Looking inward
looking within
aware of his suffering
because of my sin
Failing to follow
to obey your commands
my Savior dying
because of my hands
......
Introspection
"If you’re bored alone with yourself, it means you’re in bad company."
— Jean-Paul Sartre
Bad company surrounds you still,
Outside, within—through mind and will.
The mind will fail; it’s always blind.
So seek the Light that dwells inside.
......
With my head pressed against the window pane,
Sitting alone, I watch it rain;
With the thoughts that run through my mind,
Hundreds hitting at the same time.
Some split away,
While some squander,
But most of them are left to ponder.
Thoughts that I once let others know,
......
I sit, this morn, on the bed of
A dried-up rivulet,
Head-bent and full of compunction.
It’s clam-quiet except for the impatient
Squawks above which prompt my heartbeat.
I raise my head, heavy with grief.
Climbers and weevils align in a silent choir,
Singing with precision the lines of a forgotten
Mirth.
It’s 5 o’clock in the morning — a time when
......
Circularity is an overstatement.
Patterned like a Fibonacci spiral,
at the point of intersection, I warm up. Yet
the sunlight. Effortlessly. Passes through my chest.
Looking for a sign of understanding in your eyes...
The view is the empty sky. Ignoring one’s deepest prayers.
I am no stranger to beautiful, but empty sights
Dilated pupils. See them deepen, not ashore.
......
Introspection
"If you’re bored alone with yourself, it means you’re in bad company."
— Jean-Paul Sartre
Bad company surrounds you still,
Outside, within—through mind and will.
The mind will fail; it’s always blind.
So seek the Light that dwells inside.
......
I listen to the same playlist
I did ten years ago
some songs have come
and gone
some may have been added
just like the people.
I have my twisted tea
in a lawn chair
and the palm trees wave
at me in the near distance
......
South lies this disturbed soul,
gazing high at the north star,
as the white ball rises at the east,
west receiving the descending red.
Trapped at the center of the maze,
holding a compass passed from generations,
searching for a side to take,
for a direction to head, for a pillar to lean against.
What sight lies ahead-
mirrors the confusion playing within,
......
I
It is dawn.
Brother, rise.
Let us give vent to the rising sun, and with claps of the
Mind, welcome its waking ecstasy.
Distances prevail — measured on the sun’s distance
From the soils.
Ephemeral, morn; so we shall set forth early to lay
In our wake prevarications of morn’s trite.
......
Away from pesky leeches and from
Broken, sad walls,
I strive towards the centre.
Voices are hidden from fallen, spavined horses,
And echoes draped in robes of
Mutiny fly past.
The centre retains the pith of silence.
Heart-murmurs celebrate the only known
......