grief-monoku
sunset grief in eventide's pitch-blackness weep.....
nightjar's song of soul's lorn
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The Moon
The moon shone bright that night
Beautiful and full.
I can still picture it.
It was magical the way the light danced.
It swallowed every star in the sky
In its majestic glow.
Tonight, however, the moon is gone.
I don’t know where it went.
I wish it would come back
To light up the darkness like it once did
But wherever it’s gone, I hope it’s happier there.
I may never see that light again,
It may never again shine on my face
Like it did that night,
But at least now
I’m able to appreciate the beauty of the stars.
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Sparkled Simplicity
I sit in silence as the room fills with people.
People I know and people I've never seen.
My Uncle Mael walking back and forth. As he keeps looking at the doors, we came in.
My Dad whispering to others while they "wailed" as he called it. Although I'm unsure what that means.
My older brother sitting beside me as he keeps looking at me with concern.
This older boy in a white coat. With this sad look on his face as he walks this way.
This lady whose all dressed up in a fancy dress with golden shoes.
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Lonely beach
A day to spend everybody dreams of,
So that they can share there solitude Withof,
But how barely somebody knows,
A beach itself is lonely within its own,
Though we opt it to heal our grief all,
As we feel ourselves there like whole,
That sound of waves is tremendously magically felt,
Like touches our heart in depth,
I am wondering to have my home near there,
But how as beach is lonely which i think is not fair !
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Death, dying, grief and sadness
Death is a conundrum..
It is beauty to those that require it.
Pain to those whose watch it
Relief to those want it
aFear, hope and light.. all in one!
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Translations Dante - Inferno, Canto XXVI
Florence, rejoice! For thou o'er land and sea
So spread'st thy pinions that the fame of thee
Hath reached no less into the depths of Hell.
So noble were the five I found to dwell
Therein -- thy sons -- whence shame accrues to me
And no great praise is thine; but if it be
That truth unveil in dreamings before dawn,
Then is the vengeful hour not far withdrawn
When Prato shall exult within her walls
To see thy suffering. Whate'er befalls,
Let it come soon, since come it must, for later,
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Transit of the Gods
Strange that the self’s continuum should outlast
The Virgin, Aphrodite, and the Mourning Mother,
All loves and griefs, successive deities
That hold their kingdom in the human breast.
Abandoned by the gods, woman with an ageing body
That half remembers the Annunciation
The passion and the travail and the grief
That wore the mask of my humanity,
I marvel at the soul’s indifference.
For in her theatre the play is done,
The tears are shed; the actors, the immortals
In their ceaseless manifestation, elsewhere gone,
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