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Daily Conversations gradually reducing,
No more talking for hours.
Falling short of words,
Lack of topics and a vacuum of silence....
Drifting apart day by day,
But still Holding on to each other.
We share a deep connection,
Divine attachment full of life.
Mutual efforts with ample attention
Saves the pair from separation!!

© Biswarupa Purkayastha.
Zywa May 13
I'm expectant and

I'm ready to write it down:


the northern lights, there!
Poem "Mevrouw Despina ziet noorderlicht" ("Mrs. Despina sees northern lights", 2008, Marjoleine de Vos)

Collection "Unseen"
Malia Mar 1
She’s on top of the world
But she’s up there all alone.
She’s a goddess disguised
But her feet can’t find the ground
Anymore.

If you
Read her face you’ll see
The seasons never show.
Not new,
It’s a makeup routine for the ages
And no, no nobody knows the way
She’ll change into stone.
This is a part of a song that I’m writing but it hasn’t been finished yet.
Zywa Jan 22
I've an aversion

to fighting and to people --


The fight of my life.
"Martelaarschap: dagboeken 1965-1974" ("Martyrdom: diaries 1965-1974", 2023, Han Voskuil)

Collection "Not too bad [1947-1973]"
Man Sep 2023
temporarily
the currents shift to polarity
stars aligned, planets aligned
event horizon, singularity.
vision stretched to infinity
what it means to see me
wihte room, empty spaces
black sea fibonacci
randomized perfection
crystalline & unstratified
limitless, free direction
open palms, third eye
to truly live, and happily die
beneath the ground, above the sky
this union of the soul
to the peace found inside
of the cosmic energy that flows-
eddying currents,
the tides that wash away
the woes of life
(..and the wonderful Art of Archery)

There are the thought processes..

borne within depths, similar to a near psychosis.
Muse.. within its deepest forms, can bring one
   into the Realms of the surreal..

which in truth.. are the Realms of the very very real.

Those who fight within those Realms, carry upon
their very own persons, the casualties of war
that most are wholly unable to see.. or even feel.

     Within one's own, Inheritance..
     we take on  from another--  
                   through empathy,

     levels of pain, and darkness
     that are far beyond the ability
     of all current human word's description.

Even the shortest detachment
from the everyday normal,
such as time away of any kind,  
puts us risk  of being   plunged into,  
       not only the Realms..

       but into the empty spaces
       between those realms.

         And through it all,
   we are somehow  meant to survive
   this far too often  harsh, and empty world--  


        With our Magical Spirits..  
        and God-given Inheritance,  intact.



"..And Hagar bore Abram a son, and Abram  called
the name of his son, whom Hagar bore,  Ishmael.
The child grew and was weaned,
and on the day Isaac was weaned,
Abraham held a great feast

..But he became distressed over the way  that his son
Ishmael was being treated.
       But God said to him,

“Do not be so distressed about the boy
and your slave woman.
I will make the son of  the slave into a nation also,  
       Because he is your Offspring."

Early the next morning Abraham took some food
and a skin of water  and gave them to Hagar.
He set them on her shoulders,
and then sent her off with the boy.

   She went on her way
   and wandered in the Desert of Beersheba

When the water in the skin was gone,  she put the boy
under one of the bushes.  Then she went off
and sat down about a bowshot away,  for she thought,
     “I cannot watch the boy die.”

And as she sat there, she began to sob.

      God heard the boy crying,
      and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven
       and said to her,

     “What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid;
     God has heard the boy crying as he lies there.
     Lift the boy up and take him by the hand,
     for I will make him into a great nation.”

Then God opened her eyes  and she saw a well of water.
So she went and filled the skin with water

      and gave the boy a drink.
God was with the boy as he grew up..

       He lived in the desert
      and became an Archer."

                       <3
Man Jun 2023
Maybe it's all the avarice
The commonplace detachment,
Of trodden-life, taken as a game.
It is what it is,
The way things go,
A billion different ways
To say the same thing.
Zywa Jan 2023
Because I don't have time
I just like to waste the day
unwashed in a bathrobe

Being myself, at home
in my city bunker -
in front of the window
that mirrors on the outside

If you fly past it
you will see sparrows
being chased off the seed
by ducks who then flee

from the gull army
which has hardened its beaks
four times in the gastric acid
of the Duck family

I am safely offside
and what I don't like
I erase from the screen
Hard swords were made from iron filings, which had been mixed into the feed of ostriches, ducks, or chickens to harden in their stomach acid, and were subsequently recovered from the manure

Collection "Foghorn"
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