ركسانا✨

a small token of kindness (07th november 2022) 
          
          patterns on palms and paws, warriors of lost tears; smears and sunlight immersed in veins; water and wax, both who prick sins. mind the bashful door, the silhouettes of skins unfurnished; freedom is only if the streets are not crowded with regret. 
          
          ports of integrity and boats of grace; rain a moon that reverberates, a storm and wings with their own mind. condemn the sky and its fingers of silver syllables; what cannot hold blood can only ever be vacant. 
          
          secure the horizon, wash the world with ancient rhymes; hang the throat by its heart. song of canaries, struggling cabarets; they say nature is weak where footprints are dense. here is the hand, the hand of reckoning; sometimes stalwart beneath abyss. 
          
          tides crash into limbs, limbs of salt and tsunamis; hope dragged in a slipstream, gratitude weather worn, vehement. find me in seas and mysteries; lock your eyes with the breathless cerulean. be it silly or be it the law; do not water a thorn hoping it will grow as a rose. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness [16th june 2022] 
          
          meshes of moon scattered on the lake, a poet's grave; a wildfire graceful and kissed by rain. 
          soaked youth in yellow twigs; in boots and noons of malicious spring. 
          sweet as chocolate, bitterness subdued; what is this spring but a death that lures? 
          hands of maidens with cherry blossoms, a cure to the eye and a disease to what lays hidden; mind and magic to the world, a golden lung to the forgotten ones. 
          filled with temper, a baby breath against a caterpillar; white linen doused with earth's cold summer. 
          
          part and pardon, wish and risk; a heart that is prisoned in a cage is not worth a heart that battles. 
          lotuses carved on sour tongues, in places of disasters, of deceit; in cities of citrus. 
          place thy feet in armours of cherries, melted crystals and awakened violins. 
          saccharine sea bulbs, choruses of rainbow dancing as a wizard; aiming for the stars, wrists cuffed by freedom. 
          berries smeared with passionate blood, with nutmeg wounds and hazelnut deaths.
          fill the bowl of the ocean, fill it to the brim; what it lacks is present in drops put into humans. 
          what is motherless requires not a different earth; kindness changes not people, but reveals their raw flesh. 
          
          [kindness does not change people; it reveals their raw flesh, their real identity] 
           #adropofhumanity 
          
          

a small token of kindness 
          【12th june 2022】 
          
          the night has its shadows, blue and grey; masked in apple's seeds, agony bathed. 
          stand in the route, be miserly in calmness; there is a devil shrouded in an eye's fountains. 
          drift like a white whale, amidst memories; from aches of cure to cures of fantasies. 
          transcend life from that present on fingertips, linger near bones, where art is kismet. 
          hollowed oranges, skins like lotuses; what we wear, we often throw. 
          a poet's backbone, a shark's tale; foam of taste buds lingering as fireflies in a throat. 
          mangoes, possums, bread and butter; a mouth of cicada symphonies, celestial dust. 
          watch the canary, year to year; dirt and snow emotions, cheeks of the earth. 
          
          shabby braids and cicada musings, burrowed sunsets and pastel bones. 
          metallic connections and feathered bangles, heads of spines and littered passages. 
          vines of grapes, of collectibles and peaches; pain of pollen, eclipsed sun and its eight witches. 
          foreign hands, hums of voices barren; silence heavy, storms and curtains. 
          blues of life and blues of disguises, shadows of night veiled by lanterns.
          maps and strangers, shores and shells; rib for a rib, hunt for a hunt; what you had the courage to bring into this world must be allowed to live, dreams or ephialtes. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          
          (if you had the courage to dream of it, by no means do you lack the courage to live it) 

a small token of kindness (09th june 2022) 
          
          mourning shades, earth a rustic moon; candle soldiers, sunset roars. glass of wind, a sea that chimes; struggling lungs, alveoli of pride. circles sacred, birds and barks; persistent melodies, life a screaming scar. half of ourselves, half of earth; skeptical rules and societal lusts. 
          
          summer lightning and thunderous rainbows, yesterday's reflection in today's waters. blooming trains and grieving whistles; gravity a fork, humans fixated. ripening fruit like a sturdy kettle, boiling season as a cloudless friend. 
          
          birds of the night, mediterranean lungs; lace of glory, air a crochet undone. toes of rhythm, seventh sense; sweetness of earth's roots, pears engraved as tendrils in veins. brightness of fog, of a breath fuzzy; life in the woman's womb, a universe- like history. life blurry, a home of shadows; night, death and the womb, bringers of awakeness. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          
          (do not fear the dark; we came from it, we came from wombs) 

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a small token of kindness (22nd March 2022) 
          
          the tears of the pianos,  graves of sunken breaths; courageous sins, museums of agonies. hymns of homes, suffocated lungs; limited heartbeats, life of a quarter. coffee crowds, memory ghosts; mad touches and fragmented routes. veins avoided, night inspirations; apathetic ambiguities, rainbow tinges. 
          
          lonely embraces, curtained eyes; a void of white and a concealment of dewy pride. today deaths and tomorrow births; pigeon wings and the delight of darkened blood. stained apologies, glass sermons; reincarnated knees, candle shelves. shells of fantasy, pigmented treasures; halls of power, wolf of lust. 
          
          blue and flowers, emerald and topaz; grass of laughter, velvet hold. ink of spine, ocean depths; numbing praises, sugar- like rust. a shard of grief, a war of sickness; a woman of one, a woman of million. a broken petal of grace, a shade of march; a human beneath it, a prisoner on its soil. 
          
          mint foam, sweetened moonshine; honey blades, dark grains. foxes of faith, wings like knives; a mirror that looks, a mirror of judgments. year of beds, unmade sheets and blankets; biscuit crumbs; lungs left in black pockets. a suspended leaf and a heart of migration- where has it been held? it has merely been left to the vultures. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (28th September 2021) 
          
          when the dust of the night settles down into the horizon, and the lines of lives you drew that were left unattended poke the now sharpened tip of your pencil, perhaps it marks the beginning of a new rise. 
          
          the sun of yesterday has evanesced; turned into the living for the dead. what there was to offer yesterday, is no longer in the realm. the ball of fire, although huge, loses too. negligibly; like a smile that relaxes itself upon a face. 
          
          the loss is not visible, neither is it perceived. it is not mourned, it is not acknowledged. but it lives, silently- as a weapon that pricks little holes, larger and larger gradually, until blood completely is drained. 
          
          the moon and the universe, the stars and the galaxies exist today a little emptily than they had yesterday. we all die gracefully, gently, but cannot be seen until we collapse like leaves of warm autumn. 
          
          today you live life as it is; in its form and in its state. and then you die. you succumb and all you are is a flash of memory in the basement of time. what makes you alive is nothing more than now. it is quite a baffling mystery how we can live only in these bits and pieces of the margin of today and then we turn into a cold drop of ice, preserved and left behind grieving in the other timeline.
          
          some kinds of grief are desperately strong; to an extent that you become oblivious of reality. what has elapsed, has no place. allow it not to snatch away your position today by misleading you to itself. do nothing more, exist as is, but only in today. 
          
          love today; love this reality with such certitude that the lie of life doubts its existence. teach life. teach it about who it is and who it should be. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (25th September 2021) 
          
          time is simply matter; a messy cluster of the multiple unions of varied zones. feather like details hang onto its existence, and its position is determined by the events that unfold like the hesitant fluttering of wings. it is the seconds that paint it special; occasionally with dust and at times with gold. 
          the sun too, shines whilst a million different combustions occur in its internal. there are events in it that seem most silly to many, but every atom that fights is aware of the battle's severity. 
          under the ocean and in its grave, there coexist life and death; competing and completing. perhaps that is the function of existence; the art of existing in the phase of non existence. 
          observe the curtain of lie in your vicinity. much of everything we do is false, it is avoidance. 
          so then, would it not be correct to say that we falsify our actions until the curtain is lifted and death greets us with a handshake?
          what can be done then; even if you were the richest and the bravest, the wisest and the kindest? 
          in this merry-go-round of life, all you need is a bit of faith in yourself. the ride goes on, the music too, but if you do not know who you are or what you are made of, the ride- despite being a source of serenity- will inflict upon you memories of devastation. 
          innumerable pieces are acidic and misfits we tell, but what if i said it is the other way around? 
          therefore i advise you, that when these pieces poke you again, do not think a thing and let them do so until they become a part of you. 
          messy is not entirely bad, because some masterpieces are born from it. 
           #adropofhumanity 

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