The Signature of Our Souls

All things are subject to change and we change with them,

by night soul woman and Nepenthes.

Once upon a time a harpist played
A note in life's unwritten symphony.
At that instant, a falset escaped
From the 4 guards of the sound.
The winds of change were coming, and with them
The falset echoed messages to the engineers of the soul.

It traveled on the misty breeze,
Affecting the columns of imagination.
The winds whispered to the engineers,
And they wrote on blank pages,
Ethereal trails of the primordial mother tongue
That we had forgotten - the Signature of our souls.

Words caressed, gently, the long lost chord,
The pillar of our innermost thoughts;
And, as the poet's hand penned a verse,
The 4 guards silently observed the escapist
Humming through the ensemble of our spirits,
A quickening atmosphere, waltzing softly.

There were streams babbling through minds,
Musical notes between all the shoulders...



omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis

The reality of my being

I wish I was so weak that I could allow myself to break into pieces. I wish I could allow myself to feel, really feel what it means to live with a broken heart. I would cry, I would scream and then it would be over. It is just a moment. But I have no
strength left; I don’t have the power to express my inner pain.

Even by saying scream, cry, the voice of my soul gently whispers to me: You have already done that, that is why you cannot repeat this event, make it be a second reality. Your inner dreams sound is a constant scream and the tears are made of blood,tear drops that explode and disappear in black holes.

Feelings become memories when they are expressed. I can only dare to express love. That is the only kind of memories I want to be responsible for. This is what I am

I am love anything else would be against my nature. I will not destroy myself. I will not become someone else. Someone that I don’t know . . .

Can you snuff out the light?

You still try to burn me
with the fire of love

But this self-destructive
self-consuming fire is burning
out our love memories

. . . and we stand naked

Our past intentions are like
the burned out candle rope

Everything happens for a reason
and this candle rope served its
purpose

The reason of our loneliness,
our vagaries, are, the unspoken
mystery of our broken hearts

Nothing to mend but something
to live with, the infinite strength of
the eternal soul exists in every cell
of my body. Those memories can
never be stupefied. – Live and Let die -
That is the wisdom of the myriad centuries.
Momentarily stymied, indeed, but that is
the absolute knowledge of evolution.

It has always been that way . . .

Love for life is always the Answer.