Friday, August 23, 2013

An Instant in Time

Fragmented dreams and glistering desires
Are scattered like a myriad of ocean drops
So different, with numerous shortcomings
Unreachable up there at Heaven’s shore

By:  Gulnara Karimova

Deep calls unto deep… A spirit of soaring above all pettiness, mediocrity, earthly bounds… to soar above all earthly things… to be all of yourself (no more, no less) and no other… to suffer no guilt for being… the mind unbounded by the constraints of space and time… to believe that impossibility is a matter of opinion and not of fact… to breathe the fresh airs of nature and hear the songs of birds unseen… to hear music that touches the depth of the soul… to feel the golden rays of my memories touch my skin and give me shivers… to climb to the top of the mountains of our fears… to shout out and cry out in joy for being… to drive the roads wherever they lead to… to live in Mars, Titan or some galaxy far away… to worry about the state of some peasant in China or Africa… to seek challenges greater than myself… to stand on top of a green hill in Siberia … be a human being and LIVE until we die… pride and passions … to fight in the arena regardless of the opinions of others… to conquer paradise … to reach out and feel the touch of the hand and face of God.  By:  Homeless with a Laptop, that is my name

Floating over mysterious clouds
Trying to touch some unreachable heights
Breathing it over amazed and astounded
Leaving all daily requirements behind

Getting your mind and your body united
Grasping upon something really immense
Taking a gulp of enchanting and boundless
Listening in to inexplicable bells.

By:  Gulnara Karimova

The night blossoms
            with a thousand shadows
                        so long
as there are stars,
            street lights
                        or a moon and
who shall say
            by their shadows
which is different
            from the other
                        fat or lean.

By:  William Carlos Williams

The sun is hidden out
Behind a certain line
Who knows without a doubt
Where abyss meets blue skies?

By: Gulnara Karimova

Ripped from the concept of our lives
            and from all concept
                        somehow, and plainly,
the sun will come up
            each morning
                        and sink again.
So that we experience
                        every day
two worlds
            one of which we share with the
            rose in bloom
                        and one,
by far the greater,
            with the past,
                        the world of memory,
the silly world of history,
            the world
                        of the imagination.
Which leaves only the beasts and trees,
                        with their refractive
and rotting things
            to stir our wonder.
                        Save for the little
central hole
            of the eye itself
                        into which
we dare not stare too hard
            or we are lost.
                        The instant
trivial as it is
            is all we have
things the imagination feeds upon,
            the scent of the rose,
                        startle us anew.

By: William Carlos Williams

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