New Sun, New Day.

A molten gold drop for an eye,

She was a bird that smelled of fire.

Her feathers shone amber

Like jewels, or lava.

As if the swirling smoke and flame,

Had escaped the ring of the burning sun

And clung to her, dancing.


She was a small flame,

But the air would burn under her wings

As she tried to fly

Until it rotted black and fell,


Her touch was only friction.

The other birds were cool and

Expansive as the sea.

They would rinse the same air with a mist

Seal up the seared holes,

While this little flame left fiery currents

That singed the ice, but she never flew.


But once,

It rained and rained

And she dimmed and flickered,

Reduced to a subdued red glimmer.

While the other birds felt restored,

A fresh sheen – elemental blue.


The rain sank down endlessly,

The long daylight wept as well

And even when the sunset met with the storm

It did not end.

It was somber and dark.


The blue mixed with the grey mixed with the dark

Until it was all an extinguished dead mass.

And then the sun let out a lone ray –

Before it was quenched by the dark


And it set her on fire.


And as she finally flew across the dark

The darkness darkened still,

So a bright red streak remained amongst the ash and stars

And her incendiary flight was brilliant and still lasts.


The Sky Is Another Ocean

I made my own colour

A dainty blue, pastel layered

Marbled with midnight colour

It is my colour, sky,

My stars, me.


Her colour is similar,

It looks more beautiful. 

They love her colour

A deep sea and a lagoon

I am submerged in her colour

It is so beautiful.


I want to paint myself her colour.

I want to feel like her colour.

I know my blue is close, blue skies and waters.

A shade of difference, a nuance

I keep trying.


My sky clouds up, grey, rotting, falling,

Her ocean remains clear, azure crystal.

The breeze ruffles her waves

But shakes me, does not let me escape my blue.

I am stuck

I want to be displaced but it is killing me.


I realize

That blue cannot be me

Because this blue is me

I look at my blue.

It is a pretty blue. 


But under the light that falls on us

That blue shines more

It dances and glistens

The waves sing and roar.

She is ethereal.

While I flicker and fade.

Maybe later the light will change.

Or it will go out, and my stars will roar.


I like my blue.

I like her blue.

The ocean and the sky are different,

Both are beautiful.


A carnival of some sort had grown:

Stalls lined the streets in a smile,

Light danced above; a jeweled crown.


The shops were painted:

Eccentric, electric, mystic.

And flags hung above, like tropical birds,

A melody that clung like a scent.


Moons were arranged on table tops,

A purple orb, a giant disk, shining twin rocks.

Another shop had a tray of masks,

A looping frown, a crescent laugh.

Then there were wings. 

And chimes and shells and flowers and

Gardens and streams and hills and –

All could be found there.

And all was lost there.


It was all made of mirror, of dreams.

But then Earth caught up; the others entered,

The mirrors clouded, weren’t themselves,

They refused to obey. But-

The others had come in with hammers and time.

          The mirrors were smashed.

                         The shops cascaded down

                                  The melody screamed and died.

And by the time it was all done,

Only dust lingered in the air.


The imagination withered and there was no more rain.

Sky Siezed


The sky will arrive through your ear, your nose, your mouth,

It will swirl in your eyes: cloudy, starry, clear, maybe night.

It will quench your brain; sit in its crevices and hollows.

Settle down in the cavity of your heart

Fall at your knees

Rush to the tips of your fingers.


Blue threads, pink streaked, orange sunset,

Black waves, hiding stars, current of moonshine.


It may thunder once

Rain a few times

Lightning illuminating the sky

And chunks of ice might smash against your ribs.

Or sky might swim as a gentle breeze, as blood.


Still it is the same sky-

The same sky that enters us all.

We fall in the same sky 

We fly in the same sky,

The oceans collect

The mountains gather

To touch the same sky.


And we’re all the same-

We’re all painted sky.

Wisps, drops and patches of sky.

Swim Deeper

Imagine your composition, the substance you’re actually made of pouring out of you, gushing, like a turbulent waterfall. Let it all seep out, from every pour. Wrench out each drop of you, twist and contort your body. Let your liquid essence from the depths of your soul surge upwards and be free. Leave the body, the capsule behind. let your spirit be free, allow it to roam, just release it from your shackled body. Leave behind the void you’ve emerged from, you’ve left a vacuum behind. Let that spiral into darkness.

Step away from the mirror. Instead close your eyes and imagine this. Call it your alter ego if you want. Those vivid colours and vibrations that create you, that emanate from you, pile up to form a humanoid form. One that is not restricted and bound by your conscience brain. Listen to the sounds and tunes you’re composed of, that orbit around you in kaleidoscopic patterns, musical trails that give your vague figure contours and edges and curves. Look at the clouds of memories afloat in the midst of your being. Allow your emotions to ebb and flow, to wreck havoc and to be a soothing gentle breeze that ruffle your clouds and leave them feeling new.

Look at this, this element you are. A vibrant, alive jamboree of you. A hallucinatory form, where light doesn’t travel in a straight path. Colours curve off of your edges and disappear. They define parts of you, some blaze like fire, while others glow dimly, but they are firmly wrapped around you. Vibrations, radiations of different frequency that you emit travel in the air around you, they reflect and refract and absorb. You are a celestial orb of magic. Around you the atmosphere is charged up. You’re very essence lights up the surrounding. Azure, violet, crimson, whatever you represent. Your aura. Poignant memories from your past swiftly skim your surface and vanish, only to be replaced by other dreams that fly around you and dissolve into fine dust to add to your matter. You are a whole orchestra and your hearts pulsates to the beat of your rhythm.

You are a whole world, your geography, your topography. The valleys in you where the rivers flow musically, the ocean where the currents drown and dive, the mountain tops, snow covered, angels homes, and the darker caverns that are forgotten in the day. You are a map, a whole world where not much is known.

You are turmoil, with the earthquake that shakes you up once a week, the occasional draught that leaves you completely parched, or the  tornados and maelstroms, the lighting and tsunamis. Calamities. Catastrophes, all frequently tainting, tarnishing your time line.

    Step away from the mirror. Do not let your mind linger around your outer shell. Do not stay up nights trying to polish it, embellish it. There’s no need for any ornamentation. Any paint. The shell is just an exterior case, if its functioning its alright. What is supposed to be enthralling is whats inside.

The glow instead will come from the depths of your soul when you place it back in your body. Every night, pull it wholly out and then return it. Work on this radiance. Explore this warmth. Nurture your ancient forests and clear out all your caves. Plant some new sapling and feed them until they flourish. Time works in a distorted fashion here. You won’t grow unless you travel, dwell deeper. Tame the monsters that savages this landscape you are. Purify your content, pass it under waves of bright with light, blind all the demons. Spend your time here, you will metamorph into something beautiful.

something habitable

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