Category Archives: Poetry

Speak, beautifully

gibran_art_g103

“And a poet said. Speak to us of Beauty. 
And he answered:
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?”

– Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Whatever happened to saying things beautifully?

It doesn’t appear that language alone, has taken a turn for the worse. Rather, communication as a whole.

We don’t believe in people being gorgeous or beautiful anymore. They’ve been reduced to ten point scales.

Nobody is exhaustedThey are very tired. 

Poetry has made way for the bullet point.

While penmanship has made way for words on a jpeg.

Beliefs and fortitudes have been bastardised to hashtags.

Truth be told, the things we express, and how we choose to express them are no less than art.

In each note, stroke and syllable, lies the power to transmit beauty, pain, wisdom and emotion from one soul to another.

No, not just one man to another. Rather, a truly metaphysical transfer of intangible concepts from one transient mind to another. Wherein lies the capacity for so many things to be said, simply by being unsaid.

Yes, that power. To change minds. Change perceptions. Even time.

Whatever happened to using that power, wisely?

Illustration by Kahlil Gibran Source

Why Do We Hide

In a world of faces forlorn,
walked a man all but so.
In every step, in every word
was dripping his life; his love of bold.
Was not one to hide or shy,
nor claim the world’s wisdom his own.
But one he was; all could see,
he knew what he as man could be.
And in every word he spoke,
his love did come screaming forth.

But in this world of faces forlorn
he was looked up to with a scorn.
As men who are weak within
have not the courage to acknowledge,
that a man of love was a man his own,
one who scribed his fate through unknown.

And in their lack of courage to see,
what they were not; yet always reminded,
the man of love became a jester
and oft for his love, he was chided.

Where the tale does go, Time did tell
and those among us who knew him well
believed his love and loved him still
for a man with a way who had the will.
And in the end his epitaph did read,
not simply words of dearly beloved.
But a tale the world did read and know
only to have been touched: in the end.

So I sit here and ask today,
why do we fear to take Heart’s way?
What do we fear in revealing,
our own truth, sans Logic or Reason?

And in the wisdom of mind’s depths,
I find that fear is entwined in regret.
A fear of revealing unto the world –
exposing ourselves to alas! A heartless cold.
The fears of being made vulnerable,
and Failure leading our downward spiral.

And in my wisdom, I now know
that Failure is but, a forgotten foe.
For what I so feared him, I now wonder
while Regret creeps up to me like a winter –
and tells me that I could have been
all I had chosen but to be.
But I chose not to burn out, just fade away,
into a melancholy. Oh, so grey.