Admist the chaos that was us I lost you To the mayhem reaching the caelum Betwixt the noise filtering from the outside That slowly tore me from what I thought was true. I lost you to the pandemonium That arose from my turbulent kataomoi — Shattered dreams and broken hopes that Stole the peace from inside my heart, Tore my wings just before my flight To better shores, a sanctuary where I could could sojourn to mend and From you stay apart
Broken abandoned leaves That begin to eventually decay Can never go back to being A part of the tree of life again It is wise to remember rather than To cry that as seasons change New leaves bring opportunities That act like a balm for the pain Although it is demotivating and Takes the patience of a saint Chartreuse saplings find sustenance And life as it begins to rain So don’t let circumstance get you down Or your whole life rearrange Simply wait for newer avenues To make the bad times wane
Burried down beneath the ingredient of your entity, your decay is the beginning of a new life. For your fragments mixed up again with the familiar atoms tremulous, you wake up in a entirely different world.
Your decay can be your freedom or it can be your captivity, its only up to you, how do you want to decay.
You decay, decay down the door of a new life. And yes, decay is just the beginning of transition.
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Not all poems are written To be read nor do some Poets write them with the intention Of ever showing them to others. Sometimes all one needs is the Calm comfort of having spoken One’s truth and put it all onto Paper… reducing the torment Those very words were causing On the inside. Words get trapped Like a bird in a cage and flap And flutter till they find release From the captivity. They pour out Of the poet’s mind and form A river of great contentment and Peace - one that provides sanctity And acts as a healing force. Once They have left the poet and planted Themselves onto sheaves of papers They form a sort of release, a quiet, Composed solace that stop being Unnecessary stimuli for inducing Pain and grief. The story that was Held in the complex inner world of The poet finally comes to life and Negates the after effects of having Left the poet. Sometimes the poet May choose to not reveal to an Outsider what their poems are and What they are about- because poems However good or bad do disclose The inner functioning aspects of Their poets . There are however other Times when one simply writes to Vent and get relief from a situation Or people . Not all would want to share Such intimate information with Others, because it undoubtedly Reflects their internal thoughts and Hence offers a glimpse into their Lives. At times the pain simply Demands to be felt, to be acknowledged To be filtered down into alliterations And metaphors that signify their Importance and moreover the Acceptance that all poems are Not written to be read and sold As books but are written for the Soul salvaging function that They perform and thus act like balms.