Vermis Meridiem

More Stars than There are

Freedom Days

 

Taste of flat beer,
Surprisingly, brings back
distant memories of free Days,

Free Days and
Easy ways—
Almost always, Blasé.

When one needn’t
to do much, but to Observe and Sway,
and sometimes crave—

barely Awake,
Still sleeping…
Oh!
this was Our
best state—

Rarely aspiring to don
on the great Atlas,
Never fearing
the coming
of  ‘crucial’ Days.

 

 

Advertisements

A Bond Invincible

bring sets of armor and gear,
crates of nourishment and safety nets
to places barren, chaotic, or unforgiving,
and hope that one shall survive.

one could bring it all,
yet the Only thing
that does not rot, erode,
or become molded over
amidst the commotions
of  endless Wilderness,
remains a True Love’s
Touch.

Morning Path

Carnivores in Love

they Consume and Devour,
with innocent eyes,
Tragically without hindsight.

Ruinous tracks
left behind, yet
they know not
What they do—

Alas, cared for and get by they will,
For those who Love them
love to Live,
to love, and
to Embrace suffer.

Verging on Oasis

does the journey across the sand dunes appear much more sacred, and far less futile, when a glimpse of the green pastures comes in view?

In Transition

While in transit, do most of us get lost in stagnation,
Stopping at red lights that in no way, shape, or form 
Apply to our causes?

And for those who flutter onward—
Is it Conviction, Sense of Direction, or simply
Unmeditated,  gutsy bravery that might
Soon fall empty?

Regardless, the majority of us
Need, in body and spirit,
Those who fearlessly
Venture past the main stops,
Not accepting what was Fated,
Or planned by others’ hands.

 

Return of Ideals

even in utter chaos, we must savor these small, isolated, and precious instances

 

The Dying Cicadas

The Cicadas are Singing
Louder and Louder;
But no one sees them—
Invisible messengers they are,
Hiding behind leaves.

Their songs are ringing
Even more urgent now,
As their time is near—
Another conclusion of the year.

Can you hear?
In the echoing of these
Seemingly inexhaustible,
Dying Cicadas,
Distant yet vivid memories,
Of our Season
Soon-to-be-gone.

And are we, always unwary,
Startled, even a little—
To have come without a Choice,
To Seal
Another irretrievable Summer
Into just blurry dreams?

Sunday Love Solemnized

Good Set of Eyes

Blessed is thee
For thy watery,
Luminous eyes—

Capture and paint
Moments so rare
and precious
to the more unkind;

Cursed is also thee,
Whose pupil remains
Unsullied—

Too often
Falling prey to
the many hearts
Soiled.