-
A figure drawn in broken lines, Symmetry lost, yet still refined, Eyes hidden from the world’s bright glare, A mind adrift, beyond compare. Arms outstretched in endless space, A body’s form, a fleeting trace, Between the lines, I find the thread, Of thoughts unspoken, lightly shed. Curved and sharp, the edges blend, Where spirit starts
-
Have you ever felt like you were standing in your own way? Like there’s something greater you’re meant to achieve, but you keep getting pulled back by distractions, self-doubt, and an overwhelming sense of stagnation? If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. Everyone faces moments of internal resistance. It’s as if there’s a force within
-
All my centers pulse with light, Circles spinning in the night, Cosmic winds beneath my skin, A universe that stirs within. I sit, the sun behind, Time and space, both intertwined, Each breath a spark, each thought a flame, Seeking paths with love as name. Red to violet, energy climbs, Rising through the ancient rhymes,
-
“The self is superficial; the spirit is thorough.” In our fast-paced, image-driven society, much emphasis is placed on the construction and presentation of the “self.” We curate our social media profiles, strive for professional accolades, and often measure success by external validations. Yet, beneath these surface-level pursuits lies a deeper aspect of our existence — the spirit — that
-
A face carved from ancient bark, Eyes heavy with the weight of stars, In shadows deep, where green dreams spark, I stand, alone, with open scars. Branches stretch, my arms of wood, Reaching for skies that hum with light, A soul once lost, misunderstood, Now blooms beneath the quiet night. Centers pulse like hidden flames,
-
What if everything you know, see, and feel is not the reality you think it is? And what if the very concept of illusion is, paradoxically, an illusion itself? The Mirage in the Desert Imagine you’re trekking through a vast desert. The sun blazes overhead, and in the distance, you see the shimmering image of
-
Sin ascends through my veins, though I believe in your creed’s sacred refrains. The silent empire is a cemetery of gazes leading to captivity. Your eyes illuminate my reflection, your tongue’s mirror is my affection, Memory, anxious, keeps your kisses near, while the clock kisses time, year after year, and time, indifferent, doesn’t reciprocate. The
-
At the instant of your absence, I hear the unheard speaking, I walk among evaporated steps and rise between dreams. A song awakens me without emotion, yet unforgettable, like a dream so fragile as air, student of its wind. There’s nothing before me, only a suspended moment while outside time runs wild and beats at
-
The symptom of a life well lived sails in an ocean of souls. Dressed to find the tears that learn from the absence of paradise, Sweet signals indulge, hiding behind shadows of content. Layers of sound that depend on the spring, Midnight verbs too cold to care. Lessons in the temple too tired to learn,
-
Me quedo quieto en la orilla, observando el vaivén de las olas y notando cómo llegan hasta cierto punto de la playa. Esto me lleva a reflexionar sobre los límites naturales y la forma en que la naturaleza sigue patrones en sincronía con el universo. En ese movimiento constante, veo la mano de un Dios
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
One Way Life 