383. The Soul is a Symphony

sunny field

I wonder what people will say of me,

When I am finally gone?

Will they praise me for my honesty,

Or say that I was wrong?

Will they love my naked words,

Or loathe me as a whore?

Will they understand my words,

And why I always had to say more?

Will they say that I was sick,

Or plan and simply: pessimistic?

Will they think that’s all that made me tick?

That I was never optimistic?

After all is said and done,

I hope no one will ever say,

That I never cherished even one…

Earthly human day.

No one can help or change their path;

It is theirs to walk alone.

You’ll never understand that path;

The only path I’ve ever known.

Yet one thing I must make quite clear…

I crawled, lived, and fought;

And as much as I bore pain and fear,

Love is what I sought.

Beauty is more beautiful,

And happiness more divine,

When you know just how rare and wonderful,

It is to feel the sunshine.

To see flowers bloom each spring.

To watch children smile and glow,

And know that despite everything,

Love continues to nurture and grow.

I wonder what people will think of me,

When I am finally gone.

I hope they’ll realize how fully,

I felt and lived each dawn.

–For the soul is a symphony, not a song.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/17

Picture: https://w-dog.net/wallpaper/mood-girl-a-woman-hair-silhouette-loneliness-thought-meditation-of-mind-the-field-flower-flowers-flower-sunset-sun-night-background-wallpaper-widescreen-full-screen-widescreen-hd-wallpapers-background/id/348657/

 

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377. Yin and Yang

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I know you think I’m weak,

And those who “feel” are pitiful.

So I’ve often felt like a freak,

For simply being me.

Yet as I’ve grown older,

I’ve become much more aware,

That those whose hearts are colder,

Are much more pitiful.

A life lived on the path.

‘Tween pure bliss and despair,

May be a smoother path;

Though leads the soul nowhere.

Souls grow in sagacity,

Through the beauty and the pain.

Grow stronger on a rougher sea,

Or steep and winding road.

With ups and downs we learn,

What’s truly of worth.

With every dip and turn,

We learn to persevere.

Depth is seen as weakness,

And shallowness as divine.

Society praises emptiness…

As close to godliness.

Those who disagree: “Insane.”

“Their emotions are showing!”

“A symptom of a faulty brain,

Wandering on dangerous paths.”

I don’t care anymore what’s said,

I’d rather struggle and fight,

Ever braver in what lies ahead,

Then to fear being “too much”.

My soul is not a coward,

And my heart and mind fight on.

I do not fear love or discord,

They are borne in equal measure.

K. Aldaya, 12/19/16

Picture: By Mario Wibisono; https://wall.alphacoders.com/unregistered.php?id=624 https://wall.alphacoders.com/big.php?i=152076

341. The War for Survival

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The skies have grown black near the sea this eve.

Even the ocean, muddied, is fit to receive…

The death with follows the tornadoes of war,

Which spread from the shorefront to the steps of each door.

Waves crash and sting the eyes of the weary,

Who stroll through the streets as ghosts: silent and eerie.

Bodies float away and one man with a clipboard,

Counts each one seen with his pen like a sword.

The shelters are gone. There is nowhere to run,

And each man carries his own personal gun;

To fight back the tide of inevitable gloom.

Yet how many bullets will save even one from their doom?

The world is awash with an ocean of change,

Which washes all men and turns them deranged.

They bury the dead in mass graves without markers,

Then walk off with the smiles which living desires.

For who can keep walking on the bones of the fallen,

Without falling too deep into the sickness of men?…

Who have fallen before us begging for mercy;

And died at the gunpoint of their own misery.

The masses walk on with guns in both hands.

There’s no time for thinking. No time to make plans.

Is this war really worth it?…The bodies and the blood,

Of all the life of this planet buried in the mud?

The war continues…there’s no more to be said.

Shoot down your brother so you don’t end up dead.

Yet how will you save your soul from your sins.

For when your body soon rots the real fight begins.

K. Aldaya, 3/15/16

Picture: Originally posted by Gloomy Rules on Tumblr; http://giphy.com/gifs/shark-attack-ocean-storm-thunder-gifs-dOCG720yNqAms

 

 

299. Star Crossed Lovers

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No matter how far we reach,

Our spirits remain distant.

We long to meet…reach…and reach…

Yet our skin is resistant.

Our skin and bones detain us;

Hold us under lock and key.

On and on our sentence drones.

In death will we be set free?

Or is this a death sentence?

Life in prison. No parole;

Without recourse or defense,

Then shot dead through the keyhole?

Someday if our deaths’ pardon.

If souls traverse the cosmos.

Will we finally meet someone,

Discern and draw in so close,

That two souls may become one?

K. Aldaya, 4/7/15

Picture:  By kelsey-makes-you-smile.xanga.com; http://favim.com/image/54089/

290. False Impressions

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How can one explain oneself,

And be seen for who they are?

How does one express oneself,

Without being misunderstood?

Without receiving a scar?

Words are not enough to show,

What prevails within the heart;

And through art one cannot know,

The intention of the painters’ hand,

And truth held in their art.

For all men see each other,

Through a lens of perceptions.

Never seeing each other,

And what swims beneath the skins surface;

Drowning in misconceptions.

Don’t put souls into a box,

And label that box: “Inane”.

No soul should be in a box,

When they’re already trapped in a brain…

And can’t escape to explain,

What really dwells within their domain.

K. Aldaya, 3/20/15

Picture:  by Ekaterina Zagustina, also known as Katja Faith: http://katjafaith.deviantart.com/; http://ego-alterego.com/2011/07/sublime-pieces-by-ekaterina-zagustina-katja-faith/#.VUE09JO8jGs

285. The Souls’ Masterpiece

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The world is such an empty place; a desert for the soul.

For one such as I, who’s unwilling to lie,

And accept less as whole.

Look in my eyes: they are too deep; they hold too many dreams.

Optimists are tyrannical tragedists,

Eroding the bends of soul-streams.

A cliff’s not an inviting thing; though to eyes a vision.

Yet who but the maker’s willing to go there,

And glean the artists’ precision?

Every stroke of the paintbrush blushes touch and reason.

Feel the colors on skin; immerse yourself in,

And understand in season.

Breathe in my inner world of thoughts; hold my soul in your hands.

See and judge me, for as long as you’re with me,

Love forms in these dream-lands.

The world I own becomes a home; refuge and masterpiece.

For without a hand, or one to understand.

The brushstrokes will ne’er cease.

The cliff of my impassioned soul; I’ll one day dive from it.

In sea-colors I’ll fall, and laugh, sing, and bawl,

‘Til I drown in the depths of it.

For there is too much I think of, and too much I can feel;

And there aren’t enough painters who’ll paint from the waters,

To create what I feel.

The world is such an empty place; a desert for the soul.

For one such as I, who feels too much to lie.

I must express my soul or die.

K. Aldaya, 2/3/15

Picture:  “Colorful Sunset Over the Ocean” Uploaded by Stacy on Love this Pic; http://www.lovethispic.com/image/18872/colorful-sunset-over-the-ocean

216. Goodbye World

I’m tired of trying to explain what I know;

What I see.

What I sense.

What I feel.

What nonsense!

Only I can know since our souls do not show.

It’s important to me that at least some can know,

What is there.

What is me.

What is right,

Least to me;

So to show what I know of why my soul could not grow….

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……….Goodbye world you know.

K. Aldaya, 06/02/11

Picture:  by George Grie: http://www.neosurrealismart.com/modern-art-prints/?biography/; http://www.neosurrealismart.com/3d-artist-gallery/3d-artworks/3d-fantasy-art/353d-Final-Frontier-B.jpg

188. Exploration of the Evidently Hidden

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When you look at that face,

Can you see there disgrace?

Of the ancient days past,

Pushed down without trace;

Recollections aghast,

Etched into a face?

Beyond the known surface,

But clear more or less,

In outwardly appearance:

Eyes fraught with distress.

There for all to sense.

When that face you doth see,

Would you there then agree,

That the life there imposed,

Upon the skin which ye,

See in form transposed,

Is the face of the end,

Of times we all tend,

To cover with false flesh,

Must transcend…must transcend…

The falsities we mesh,

With hours, days, weeks, and years,

The compounding, it sears!

Now no more, yet much more,

Then we there place in tears.

Hidden where none do implore.

K. Aldaya, 12/11/05

Picture:  Artist Unknown; http://img5.visualizeus.com/thumbs/58/b8/eyes,eye,green,magic-58b8090052213eee254d9c83bc65473d_h.jpg

133. Stalking the Soul

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Life’s a facade,

Crammed comprehensively with faces;

Vibrantly stroked charade,

Of nonsensical graces.

Dreams are clearer,

Fantastically textured residue,

Of the looking mirror;

And in the soul reigns most true.

Speak in mine ear,

Not of erratic, conclusioned-truth,

Rather of the fear,

That dreams must be lost in dead-youth.

Dreams lie transposed,

Sedulously entrancing my core,

Vulgarly exposed,

But reverently sought even more!

K. Aldaya, 4/16/05

Picture:  “Lost in the Crowd” by ShisSharon on Flickr; https://www.flickr.com/photos/28291679@N06/3954821896/

73. Poetic Truth?

Some think they know the poet well,

Who speaks with rhythm, rhymed,

And loudly with a thing to tell,

Cascades the open mind;

Of every soul upon which it fell.

Are words the voices held inside?

Found in each souls’ expanse?

Which are sent outward to guide,

All to know the soul at glance?

For won’t, within, the truth e’er hide?

K. Aldaya, 9/8/04