Particular Moments

More Stars than There are

She Loves Like An Elf

— Feb. 2021, Heres Pang.

 

Must We?

Had a little fun with open source photography — stunning and tranquil image credited to “duckman1992” on Unsplash 🙂

 

A walk and a song, before dawn

Every so often, you may find that
The humans, in their various manifestations
Of desires, vulnerabilities, shortcomings, and even
Hopefulness and Beauty ---

Are simply far
Too Heavy ---

You immerse in it, daily,
Like wading, knee-high, in an air
Filled by Molasses.

But every so rarely, you may discover
Creature companions of sorts, 
Whose dimensions only spare them
Very plain needs:

To eat, to drink, and if ever so lucky,
To wander and play, 
Mindlessly ---
Free from Love and Grief,
Free, in the absence of time,
Nowhere, and Everywhere.
 

Quest of the 144 Star Clusters

17, 17, 17
Everywhere - the air has become Charged.

Could We now go back
to Sleep, this death row slumber,
of slow but certain
downward demise ---

Is it possible
to now close your Heavy
Shell-shocked Eyes,

Once We've been Called
to Awaken and Rise, and
to Cast Thy Net
to The Right?

Have the Brave
Engaged themselves, for Our Sake,
In the most Pivotal Conflict
of the Times...?

This War that spans
Across Space and Time;
that Decides the Fate of Man ---

Which Path shall Our Children
Set sails on,
Enslavement, Chaos, or
A picturesque episode
of Blossoming Peace?

And Who are the Enemies?
Inter-dimensional demons...?
Hahah - Surely they were
Tough to Beat.

(Have you had Visions,
Seen the Foul Smelling
beasts...crawling Beneath
the deceivingly vacant Deserts?

Have you...had your hands bound
as you witnessed the raping
and devouring of your Kin
Under the the blackened sun...?!)

Having survived the gory
Eclipse,
Where is Your Righteous Anger?

Shall We be Valiant
In Memory and Honor
of the Good, the Exploited, and the Fallen?

Shall We take on the Sword
of Vengeance,
After We've mourned
The Innocence destroyed,

White Flowers Inflamed,
Ravished?

.
.
.

Fellow Men and Women,
The Prophesied Age of Aquarius
hath Dawned Upon Us
All,

After having been maliciously
Denied
So many times (dark hands).

The Warriors of the Past
Who risked Everything to
Usher New Earth forward ---
1860, 1960, once more 2000 ---
Are they now smiling,

Now that We draw nearer to victory
This Time, Once for All?

No more resurrections
to the vile. Hydra's head
Severed, cut down
Under Cyrus' Command.

Brace Thyself.
Normalcy as We knew it
Gone out the window,
Everything up shall be Revealed
to be down;

Hidden Treasures are to Sprout.
Fact shall be overturned by Truth
Logic is to be rectified by Love.

Open your Mind and Souls ---

Do you see
The Fountain holding
The Water of Life
Rising, soon to burst,
Freely?

 
 
 

Shall We Become Like Flies?

Have you been Alarmed
By the specks
of Tragic Truth
That have peered through
The Fog of terror and anxiety
In this Year of years,
2020?

“They are dropping like flies.”

Who are these unfortunate Souls,
Who let go of their Names,
Their Friends and Families—

Their Loved ones,
and Exchanged
Their Significance and Purpose

For an irreversible membership
In the Nameless Club
of Decaying flies?

Who are you?
You Individuals now turned
Empty seats?

You, The Hole
In our Hearts?

If God Willing,
You are still here,
Help Us, if you cannot help
Yourself —

Help Us,
So we shall not shed
More Tears,

So we aren’t further
Sobered and Yellowed
by your Departure.

There’s plenty o’ Pain
Here,
We’re sure —

But it’s still bearable
and Beautiful
With You Still Here.

A Dog Who Smells Like Fish

There’s a Joyous Dog next to me —

She smells like Fish
And the scent of Fresh Soil
After a good, long
Rainy Day.

Every paw-step she takes,
A rich breeze of Life
Follows;

She likes to Chase,
And she likes to eat,
With a crazed gobbling,
That is.

Somehow,
I sense that
She is more Alive
Than the likes of me.

Sound Check

Another Year and Half on Hiatus,
When will your Songs be Heard?
When you've been put Under?

Break your Eggs, my Friend---
You are every bit as Consequential
As the Stars and the Moon!

It'd be a Sin
To hide your Essence
And mute your Lustre.

Eye of The Storm

Faint
But not so
Distant

Echoes
Of Sweet Melodies,

Sang by the Innocence
Of Our Children.

The Sun’ll Shine
Once again,

As their Precious Tune
Draw nearer,
and Nearer —

Let it be,
That This Time,
The Better Angels
Of Our Nature

Will Never Again
Allow the Beauty of Innocence
To fade and wilt into
Grotesque and Unseen
Absence…!

Never again,
Shall We turn a Blind Eye, and
For millennia,

Tolerate the hidden,
Unseen, unheard, but
Grossly Rampant Lacerations
That took place
Night after Night,

Six-feet Under.

Yes,
The Sun Will Shine
This Time —

This Time…
Broken Hearts
Are Not Forgotten.

Seasons

Is it really true---what they say,

“One life ends, Another one begins.”

If so, is it the best one could wish for?

We live in a strange reality, one in which the best lessons are taught with loss and death. We survive the perished, and live our days breathing leftover air.

We go to different places, make new bonds, start and restart new lives---each a second chance, all to one way or another, make up for what we could not rescue in the first place.

"We'll do it Better this time."

It's not so sad as it is bittersweet, like the passing and rebirthing of seasons.

Living in A Present End

The Sun rises upon our City,
Shining through
and eventually rising past
the Dust
and Smog of Unspeakable
Terror---

That which some of
US have been Spraying
and Pressing,
with an devilish
determination of Doom,

Upon those defenseless
in our muddy, Earthly
Lot.

You Stand by
the East-facing window,
and Dawn radiates itself
half-muffled,
through our Now
Sedated Sky---

Constrained by its
Silver veneer of death,
Mapped haphazardly
and logically
Overhead.

You Look back
in the Mirror, and
the Silhouette looks
Back sickly,

With Blood-Shot Eyes.

He looks back at you,
as if you were the one
who were dead,

"Have you been suffering obliviously,
If not having had been
Duped
into Half-Hosting
Our Greatest War?

Living one eye blind,
While having lent the other
to play mere Bystander?"