IT is midnight; somewhere a storm has
overshadowed a Soul, in others, the storm
is a brilliant reprieve of false peace;
and words pour as molten gold.
A richness of undetermined wealth measured
by Spirit and not human needs.
I have become equal to fear and peace —
this i discovered with my never-closing eyes,
take away this discovery and many others
to share with all fellows. The proof of
existence is a blood-penned period at the
end of a written sigh.
And i write this previous sentence in honor
of Isidore Lucien Ducasse.
To discover your feelings have died and
the skin is a roof for a cemetery! This
pain causes me to pull upon my eyes until
they fall to the ground; and to realize
sympathy is a symphony of sensitive angels
who love us all.
To me; i love you. To everyone else, you
have been my teacher.
:: 04-16-2019 ::
e.p.robles (c) 2019
There’s no one here. But me. And that quiet
voice which is the beginning of a thing of
beauty. And today nature is agreeable with
my sentiment of a perfect life; her high
morning sea and cloudless sphere kiss my
tender heart and soul.
Today I have stopped. Thinking. And how when
beauty and love enters one’s life all the noise
stops. Confusion melts.
When nature touches you.
:: 04-08-2018 ::
my silver lining
see the crystal
rim of thinking
and what golden meaning
:: 10-13-2014 ::
— what state
Surely I will visit
My suitcase packed
— unknown destination
My intuition says
a map cannot reveal
locations of the mind
Much easier a travel
when disposition drives
THERE is a sound
not stirred nor made
that rings a tone
not sung nor heard
To hear it requires
— a quiet place
Not here nor there
But within the void
— a solemn place