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Literature Text
You die and are reborn each moment
Every time you are brand new
There is no need of past or future
You exist but nothing can grasp you
So get rid of you body to feel weightless
And get rid of your mind to stop feeling
It the emptiness you still exist
In a translucent form with no disturbance
In a place that is shapeless
Where time and space are unnecessary
Where activity means no change
Where you seize dying and are eternal
In this place your head's an ocean
That poured away and became formless
And each drop of its water
Is the existence itself
Every time you are brand new
There is no need of past or future
You exist but nothing can grasp you
So get rid of you body to feel weightless
And get rid of your mind to stop feeling
It the emptiness you still exist
In a translucent form with no disturbance
In a place that is shapeless
Where time and space are unnecessary
Where activity means no change
Where you seize dying and are eternal
In this place your head's an ocean
That poured away and became formless
And each drop of its water
Is the existence itself
Literature
if you have ghosts (you have everything)
my hands were blue and so was i
and i had everything:
a christmas tree
a guitar tuned by humidity
a dark library underneath my pillow
and a voice whose words jerk, jut
and stab quietly into one another
so i may never understand;
it was two AM, dawn of a decade
and here a ghost has me motionless in 1933.
--
i never met my grandfather till today--
he dies in 1975
and in 2020 he is born
at the bottom of a drawer in the kitchen,
his coffin and crib:
he is swaddled in moth-eaten dishtowels by a nameless undertaker
(or perhaps an autophagic author himself);
his crib and coffin:
he is buried a lifetime
(deaf to my cacophonous lifetime et ceter
Literature
Sad Poem (Written on a Monday)
Inside our house, surrounded
by plants, that soft light—
the weakest shade
of gray and waiting
to turn it all yellow.
I have slept and slept
for days now,
unfolding into small
moments, only to see you
orbiting our mattress,
waiting for some type of
human reaction, any
kind of movement.
I need a haircut.
I need to shave and go
to work and forget these
days of no control
where I’m a child again,
reeling and afraid that it
will always be this way,
that I will always be in my room,
alone until someone calls me down
for supper, and then a bath,
some prime time television,
and straight to bed.
I am locked outside of something
Literature
A Dream Never...
A thirsty soul derailed
A life wasted and failed
A dream never to be
A poor spirit, that's me
A mortal on this path
That's filled with woe and wrath
A dream never come true
These days I do so rue
And I want
And I need
And I wish
To proceed
I don't know
I don't care
If I get
Anywhere
A person lost all hope
They tried their best to cope
A dream never realized
Existence so despised
And I want...
A human that fell down
They greet the cold ground
A dream never grew wings
A puppet on life's strings
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I realized this dying-rebirth-each-moment cycle the other day. There is no need to cling to what you have done because each moment you are new, defined only by your current state. Today I stopped dying for a while.
© 2011 - 2024 Elendurwen
Comments24
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Lately I found myself contemplating on the fact that the physical evidence (in my opinion) strongly suggests that consciousness is discrete and not continuous, which is how we perceive it.
So in a sense I agree that we are 'reborn' every moment because consciousness is discrete, but since I have no idea what dying actually means, I won't surmise as to the existence of a life-death cycle or to its possible length.
So in a sense I agree that we are 'reborn' every moment because consciousness is discrete, but since I have no idea what dying actually means, I won't surmise as to the existence of a life-death cycle or to its possible length.