Reflections
Tell you a story, begin with the I,
borrowing the night’s usurped reflection,
azure skies lead the way to stars being confined,
welcome to the land of dry deserts where cacti grow, only.
In dissonance, theories of unwelcome situations are dissipated,
hence, when we discover our truth,
cosmic bliss brings about transformation of the self,
as one questions and prods for clarity in the silver strands of time,
golden hues are perfected in reflections of sunsets in ponds,
yourself is a mere fragment of imagination in the pool of aura.
Red, yellow, white and blue, we are but colors of a great pattern, it emerges behind the scenario of light beings, where shadows have no place,
paintings excite the senses; smell and touch the blades of grass,
fresh dew in the morning, continuing effervescent dew on leaves,
transforming existence into butterflies, waiting to be reserved.
Tantalizing yet ready, the person steps into uncharted waters,
behold the wave that reaches for the earth in a pointed direction,
bereft of shimmer inside the moon’s glow, warmth in summer air,
how we as modern man become transient beings of reflection.
photo by Jessica Felicio (Unsplash)
Consistency
Snow particulates surround the crispy aftermath of a blanket storm,
pines bear the weight of thunderous white clouds, whilst,
precipitation undermines winter’s grasp,
a choke hold on vines in a spectacular village in Tuscany,
grasping the gregarious quality of oneself,
it is the understatement of conditioning that interests the body.
Palliative care being the needy when a heart strikes,
consistency in rainbows become a fantasy for the dreamer,
one’s essence is physical, a manifestation of the divine,
love in scholars resides deep into the adjacent forest, text book.
Canopies of trees and stars inside the underneath,
sensations behold winter`s glance inside the allotted,
curvature in the simple majestic, bellows spiraling,
as if a willow had more than it`s share of heaviness,
catapulting the manifestation before desire.
Pulling oneself from the bridge into the alley way,
dust settles the innocence of blushing roses,
the commonality of banality is transformed besides fields of lavender,
fresh bundles of floral arrangements open the trachea and sing.
photo by Adrian Infernus (Unsplash)
Reaching
Subtitles become our thriving in the realm of the idiosyncratic,
as vestibules of light, we are beings made for reflection, moth to flame,
consistency is a vibration of utter rigor, maple trees discovered in baths,
cloak and consideration is given to the earthen world,
one we can touch and hearthrough fine attunement to the green blue.
Perhaps it truly is that, we are hanging roses on the perch of isolation,
only but to unravel the constant bravery that takes us across fire and water,
winds blow into the atmosphere, clouding vision alike,
pressure builds into matrimony as we discover harmony in the alone.
Elemental are the sacrifices of humanity, a deserted crack in the wall,
chambers of a ghost town that draws the insider into banality,
remembrance of hinderance inside humility and baseness,
it is the separation of the world and the I, that creates space for passing.
Through violent disruption the chaos of humility is assembled,
quartiles for trees and the deciduous, quartiles for ascension,
bravery outlasts the sacred soul, dancing through infinity,
it was you all along that made my knees, shake.
3 poems by Anna Rozwadowska from Fevers of the Mind Anthologies : Sabotage, Unphased, Harmony
Fevers of the Mind 