I love the silence between words, because when I’m talking to her,
every time she stutters, my heartbeat waits for her words to make me alive again.
Every time she looks at me, I think that maybe she’s the one.
Every time I confess my love for her, her silence between the words makes me feel important.
Was she the one, or was I just overthinking?
Those silences between the words could make me impatient,
but when she’s silent, I get to look at her tender face, her mesmerizing eyes.
That’s the time when she’s not trying to fit into the class, or trying to be someone else.
That’s the time she is what I like — she was not like us.
That’s why I loved the silence between the words — because I never got an answer from it.
I look at my soul killing its flaws. I appreciate it and let it do so. But when I came back to earth to show them a perfect human, I realized my mistakes made me who I am. Without my flaws, I am just a perfect human—but not me.
I hear again and again, of people searching for what is real,
Looking for the answers that they seek is like climbing up a hill.
Their truth and their authentic self, they seldom if ever will find,
If all they do is listen to others and never use their mind.
Based on the things I’ve seen and heard; this is my simple conclusion.
The things we observe with our physical eyes are the illusion.
The answers to all the questions we have are safely hid inside.
Thoughts that are both eternal and true always within us abide.
Each of us must follow our heart and our path we will discover,
Listen within to the voice of our soul, clues we will uncover.
Step by step, the path we will follow, trusting it is the right way.
We’ll live in the present, learn the lessons provided every day.
Should a man dare to look within?
Search secret places of hidden sin?
The lack of which could be exhilarating,
But those long loss, debilitating.
Even those revealed can be a gift,
Confession, forgiveness, they could give a lift.
Or an insight into his authenticity,
Could open his eyes that he might see.
Through the illusion, that’s led him astray,
Guiding him back to his intended way.
Leading to personal responsibility,
Helping him become all he can be.
All men have sinned, falling short of perfection,
Often frustrated by their illusionary perception.
Each morning drifts like mist—
soft, uncertain,
but somewhere in its hush,
I feel the weight
of something turning dark nearby.
I once imagined
this place would be still,
that the walls would not echo
with things unsaid.
But peace, it seems,
is not something we always share.
Patterns repeat—
whispers circling like wind in a cage.
The days loop like shadows
on the same old path,
a wheel that spins
but never arrives.
Solitude sings a softer song.
There, I breathe.
There, I unfold
without needing to bend
for anyone's gaze.
Some birds only perch
when the branch gives them fruit.
They vanish with the silence
and forget the hands
that sheltered them from the storm.
So I walk—
quietly,
gratefully,
far from noise that pretends to care.
And I hold the light
only I can carry.
"To Walk Beside You"
I met you in the silence
Between laughter and retreat,
Where fire met still water
And wild hearts dared to meet.
You saw the storm inside me
And called it too much flame,
But it’s the heat that forged my spirit,
Not a thing I’ll ever tame.
You asked for open softness,
For a love that wraps and mends,
But love is not a binding rope,
It’s where the breaking ends.
I’ll walk with you through sorrow,
I’ll hold your trembling hand,
But I won’t step out of myself
To help you understand.
You crave a safer rhythm,
A song with gentler sound,
But mine is sung in thunder,
Still sacred, still profound.
So heal, love, and I’ll witness,
I’ll be there, brave and true,
But I can only love you fully
If I’m allowed to be me too.
Not to fix, not to follow,
Not to shrink or bend or hide,
But to meet you in the middle,
Whole, unmasked, and side by side.
Lev
In our society those who are pure are mistaken for weak.
They are taken advantage of
"Whipped into shape" by society
"Oh you don't eat enough" ends up being
"Are you going to eat all of that?"
"Why don't you have any friends? Are you depressed?"
to
"You have too many friends are you that desperate?"
Being "whipped into shape" by society means you are no longer important enough by just being you.
Unveiled and untethered , I stand tall ,
A reflection of truth , without disguise or fall.
No masks to hide , no scripts to recite ,
My soul's raw beauty , in pain sight.
The armor shed , the walls laid low ,
Vulnerability's gentle glow.
Embracing flaws , and imperfections too ,
A masterpiece , in progress anew.
In authenticity's warm , golden light ,
I find my voice , my heart's delight.
No pretenses , no apologies made ,
Unbridled truth , in every shade.
With every breath , i own my story ,
Embracing the beauty , in its glory.
Authenticity's liberating call ,
Sets my soul free , standing tall.
What a tragedy
Nothing but life
No love just reality
People making promises
They say they'll keep
But I've been wondering
Where's the loyalty
Mindless sayings and
Heartless love
Who on earth are
We supposed to trust
Family supposedly
The best remedy
But really just
a lot of misery
Demarcation Lines
. for public domain
With demarcation lines obscured
from what is clear, what is absurd,
what makes sense, what makes no sense,
our soul's exchequer bears the expense.
And so too our capacity for dreams,
to treasure our own, not another man's schemes,
or programmed plots from computer game scenes,
or scripted stories on tv screens.
Loose the sense of who you are,
but make it your own decision,
not imposed by those who regard
your authenticity with derision.
In pondering, less is more.
Dragged down by her own arms and eyes, to the surrounding sheol of the they
Authentic life gets buried in the dirt of averageness, as the world’s prey
She is a being in the world, whose only true life is resoluteness
Especially since she falls into dedistancing, reaching averageness
In the vulgar tomb, psychology and biology cannot give light
Nevertheless, in her grave, she hears the silent call that no soul can recite
(Inspired from reading the philosophy book "Being and Time" by Martin Heidegger)
Free Verse: Vulnerability
Philosophically, and ideally,
I believe I should be myself,
Which makes me feel vulnerable, unsafe, and insecure.
Practically, and actually,
My philosophical ideal is eclipsed by fear.
So, I protect myself
By hiding my identity, or disguising it with a false identity
To feel safe, secure, and invulnerable.
But, what is my identity?
It's how I feel and act - now,
Not what I was was yesterday,
Not the story someone wrote for me,
Not what I plan or hope to be tomorrow,
Not what my driver's license or resume says.
It's how I feel and act - now.
There's my homework
Let my actions and outward expressions
Honor what I feel is right
Which is me -
Now.
Diamante: Vulnerability
Real -
Vulnerable, Unsafe
False - Safe, Invulnerable
I must be real -
What I feel
Is right -
Now
No one can feel the pain of a molested female
She cries from her soul
She is alive from her body,but her uniqueness, her authenticity, her desires get annihilated
She gets besieged by the allegations of society,
Ultimately she is rewarded by the tag of "Culprit"
And harassed mentally to the point where she decides to quit by suiciding
Is a female, mere a material for the men to fulfill there so called sexual cruelty, to show there masculinity
Whenever she is raped
It shatters all her dream and independence to fly high..
And all her grief is mere a joke for the so called"MALES" who has dilema of being a god of a female??
AUTHENTICITY
a
resemblance
confirmed
with
the
theory of truth
in
a
purported
pigmentation
of
flawed aesthetics
analysed
with
an
impecable
provenance
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