At times sadness is just too crippled and delightful
Like a ray of warmth traversing down your intestines
You bestow yourself with your own empathy, love, and understanding
Letting yourself feel like You again.

Mildness of Truth

Perceptions are like small dot-size holes
On a sky-length wall —
The point of our meditation
The convergence of our concentration
The foci of our actions
The road of our present
And the route to our future
A formlessness, a presence,
Yet we bind it with our reality
Consider it the only truth
Indulge in immature judgments
Heighten our egos just on one basis
And in that small subjectivity
We try to stuff our essence
To jar the wall
And let neither the time flow
Nor we floweth out of it.

Another Minute of Illusion

Emotions are perspiring my thoughts
Invading my exhausted cravings
What was once gone and I soothed my heart into acceptance
Is inflicting irresistible daydreams and desires
What is blind — my in or out?
Or everything I ever wondered and wished to believe?
Better is still the thought of patience —
To postpone the realization, to delay the truth,
And to live an untrue present for one more minute.