adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness ( 21st january 2023 ) 
          
          bruised october, champagne bread; weeping permissions and tightened braids. a mother of brass, windows of pages; ebbs of midnight, divided miseries. 
          
          copper sprain, malachite oxygen; birds of meetings, broken silences. venn of the woods, the wind and the windpipe; foreign vowels, submerged wrinkles. wet crayons, scents of blue; crisp metaphors and pigeon hues. 
          
          palms of desserts, midnight sober; fire that slips, a womb of sonnets. lemonade poems, an annihilating waist; casual grave, a whisper of conclusions. a poet of confessions, a sky of sin; sacred rain, storm antique. 
          
          blurry opals and cigarette soliloquies; swaying septum and a bouquet of tattood ribs. spine of butter, vinegar patio; breastbone shelter, cronus love. white doorstep, a welcome ghost; trees forget leaves, winter shrinks bones. 
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token token kindness (01st january 2023)  
          
          steadfast sunsets, crooked mornings; lake a crowd of gleaming mournings. lyrics that burn, bones hopeless; tongue of wind, it rarely stays. a future of magma, temple and cityscape; humans among humans, a home bereft. 
          
          a birth that bleeds, a firmament of fleeting wisps; feet smelling of earth, lips a facade, what we appreciate. filigree like rain, a blush of darker reign; summer distorted, desert a burning lace. panaroma of a kaleidoscope, a bard like grackle; pits of doubt and a park of frission. 
          
          jardin de tuileries, seeds of breezes; memory endearments and waves of freedom. satin scents, devoted petals; barricaded branches and canvas of dripping enchantments. convivial music, lily trenchants; reflective denouements, fulgent waterfalls of wisterias. 
          
          violent fears, chalices of secrets; numbing encouragements,  frosted vanilla. oscillating mountains, cloved cessations; tainted vicolos, bricks of dried redolences. parasols of petrichor, labyrinth of moonflowers; tower of desire, rose precipices. keep a smile, with flowers divine; they grow not on well made roads but through the rough womb of mother earth. 
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (21st October 2021) 
          
          in the extinct field of companionship, the sun lingers closer towards its dry veins, in the intense kicks of homesickness. contaminated laws and deserted rules wrap around the resident fear; suffocation pressing down upon the disquiet throat. 
          
          where there is solitude, there is loneliness; and an escape from the poisoned apple is only but a bite of it. the sky swallows the consciousness, the screaming prevalent of the moon, of the crying of its bare existence. the well stares at the violent emotion, the enchantment of life, far from itself, into the horizon. 
          
          as children, as innocent droplets of rainfall, all they sweetly devour is the fall; the drop, the crash. the aura of the water glazed grass, the poetry of the winter dressed maiden, the sorrows of the nightingales' tale, the quivering of the sea kelps running dry. to them, like the pleasant alphabets of letters, life is only beautiful, no matter how many clouds form. 
          
          then, one ponders, what changes as we grow? all world becomes is a harbour of endless crucifixion. with that in mind, the sun has been straining itself for generations, glowing and glowing. has it not suffered the negativity? why has it remained fixed like a cemetery? 
          
          life is incredibly dark; like winter has struck for an eternity. however, does winter not have warm mugs of coffee and chestnut lollies? stretched hours and rivers of snowflake crystals? dampened cheeks and swollen tulips?
          
          there is beauty everywhere to an eye that searches. like the child that digs through the surface with fingers ageless. and the sun that peeks through the alleys of ghosted towns.
          
          have you lost yourself in the wound, gaping and huge? allow the sun, the warrior, to breathe into you soft precautions. allow it to fold the wound into a gleaming sunset, like the one it makes with the sky. 
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (12th October 2021)
          
          the sun has existed for centuries, without a trace anywhere. it springs a little and hibernates within itself; its presence a petal that delicately falls to demise after an hour of existence. it cuts through the emptiness, warms the dead a bit, guides the void and sets into the womb of the horizon.
          
          the moon begins its course as a mighty surfer like damask tides that tear through the ocean to gnaw at the sky. lack of ululation and of illumination, lack of cumulation and of guidance and lack of a positive environment everywhere. yet it sparks for a while, with a colour of childhood and sinks then, into the rebellion of painted growth. 
          
          everything has its time. everything has its sin of end. when one thing starts, it pours itself down the waterfall of death. the flowers take birth in the spaces of toes and in the dirtied heart of indulgence, they seem to rot. 
          
          like the tongue of the devil and the forbidden sea, we humans have lost our hearts to our abdomens. greed has taken form in us like the wicked apple in darjeeling, our senses lost to the suave-like bodies of stained ink. 
          
          our eyes have occupied monsters within them. what we see, we must destroy with our stomachs. not every availability is to be eaten, some just are for instilling caution. cling to your claws of curiosity, for they are a flaw shaped as paradise. but to test them through every breath of innocence; are we flesh or are we then nothing but wolves in pearled form of humans? 
          
          life perhaps is mostly lost for the very reason that we choose to feed upon it when infact, it should be merely caressed with soft fingertips. 
          
          the oceans waves are only for adoration. do not mistake them to be an invitation into their privacy. you may be a human, the best of creatures, but to the ocean that has existed forever, you might only be the salt to its openness; a knife to its bleeding secrets. 
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (9th October 2021) 
          
          there is so much in us and so much we can be, like the cosmos that has been under servitude and the black hole that consumes it. there is within the sun a similar attitude; it walks the cobblestone lanes with eyes of the deceased. melted paints it wants to embellish upon the stars and pluck out the shine of its rays to decorate the leaves of autumn. 
          
          the earth moves solemnly, under the strict awareness of the watchful crowd, and it breaths yellow marigolds in hopes of being surrounded by a tree of hope. in it, on it, everywhere around it; lack of appropriate loneliness. sheer visibility of the city lights, blindness to the one from the heavens above the sky.
          
          what an agony, what a pain. jewellery like ice slitting the throat. flowers boiled in acid. the world a place of slaughter. 
          
          life is one, but lives within it many. if we choose to go beyond the doomed number, we exhaust to dust. ankles tied with ropes of responsibilities and hands with households. where rivalry thrives, it is a place of legends. the kind which carries sins and buries the oppressed. 
          
          however what of those who defy the rules? of those who, regardless of the consequences, accept war? 
          they become the kissable sea, the immortal air, the glorious sky and the soft universe.
          
          be the sun, the stars and the sky all together. if they admire you from afar, it is because they each see themselves in you.
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (8th October 2021) 
          
          perhaps it is not entirely insensible to believe that the sun has not only poetically but in the literal sense tasted a universe of existences; a conundrum of souls wrapped around it in sequences. it lives in thousands colours, in a lamp of calloused hands, in early shades of fresh flowers and roaring of summer tides.
          
          fresh earth has been stamped with prints of stained feet; those of agonized shadows and sinful priests. these have not collapsed, neither did they rot. they deprive the depths of the sand of its calm. they never pass, they never cease. they change from a mass to another, from a place to the other, like time in a clock that ticks. 
          
          it is unbelievable to say but everything is based upon vigilance. the earth with its trees. the sky with its balance. the sun with its warmth. the moon with its darkness. death with its unanimousity. and life with its universe. where there is a sense of extraordinary power, there is caution. 
          
          human form is such that all that life cannot stitch up in it, death will. the ache of mundanity is such that there is the occurrence of gradual assimilation into nihility; like the air from the creak of a windowpane that melts into the air confined to itself in a room. like the aroma of a warm cup of cardamom tea that infuses with the damp September nights from the mystical fields. 
          
          but before death shall arrive, will nothing heal and will nothing stop to bleed? your heart continues to let its blood infuse the body with life. therefore, if you must bleed after all, perhaps do so in a manner that heals as it kills. 
          
          blood symbolises power, growth and achievement. whether agreed upon or not, death fears it. death despises it. 
          
          beginning of life is dark and so is its end. and in between, survival is possible only if you bleed, collect the blood, burn it and leave iridescent prints behind. 
           #adropofhumanity

adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (29th September 2021) 
          
          far from the barricades of limits and upon the ocean of buried miracles, there was a roar; a cry of despair, a mourning of the blood that was left stuck under the nail. 
          
          there was once a nation that had sat under the sky, fantasising about the round ball of happy energy until the word light was born in them. and they remained loyal to their positions until the moon's blessed curves seduced them. they realised that the white counterpart could be named as moon- something that seduced travellers just enough to find their ways. 
          
          no name, no moral, no frame came about without contemplation. no man, no game, no space existed without a question or a pang of doubt. no history, no rules, no legacies came about without venom in the eyes of the travellers and tulips in the smiles of the oppressors. 
          
          you thrive upon an ocean of buried miracles and roar. some succumbed to death whilst on a search for it. perhaps you and i have grown unaware; timidly and poorly unaware, pitifully and helplessly. 
          
          where you stand, you rule. eyes cannot perceive but there is life underneath. the more you familiarise yourself with your identity, the better the exhibition of power.
          
          steal your time and the complexity of the universe. the moon sits in a satin gown, dripping with tragic glow. use it, burn with it, light up the ground like fireworks in the sky. 
          
          the sun has been brightening your life for years, but tell me, did you really ever find its light? you shall have to find it, even if you were born with it. you will also have to find life, though you are born with it. 
           #adropofhumanity