First-time Voyages

For every tower, they say,
There’s a knight of cups in shiny armor
Whose legendary visions and personal touches
become more than a written diary;
Some sins are not punishable by death
They are instantly rewarded instead by the living:
the same calming blue heightens the sky limit,
folding the horizon along the dotted lines;
A rainbow - shielding a brand new set of pretend dominoes-
lands heavily on our few true colours
Spotting the bits of coincidence in every hour,
Covering the long- experienced disbelief
between two cowards
looking beyond the obvious,
coming to terms with a changing conspiracy
when it's too dangerous
to bring even flowers,to understand a heart's subtlety-
an unspoilt mainland made more random,
by unrealistic cards featuring fake priorities...
A thirsty departed in the mirage of blaze
will cease reaching for emergency tenderness
and hope for a dissolution of rain;
After self-induced amnesia we are all praying
for total recall
not knowing some recollections are there to holt.


Linguistically Challenged

Tragically, there are not enough words to describe everything we may think or feel. And, even when words do exist, fearing the effects of some of our potential verbal or non-verbal confessions, everyone learns to “speak” an inner dialect of censorship, a silent language whose vocabulary is too exquisite, too daring or too strong to share with the outside world: unrealistic hopes and dreams, indefinable emotions, feelings, relationships… inexplicable desires, sorrows, regrets...inappropriate affirmations...unconventional statements...All these and more have to live like hostages inside our limited selves since they are born until we die.

It's so difficult to live with them and even more difficult to draw lines all the time ... Still, if our mind cannot give us a full account of all the matters of our heart... I cannot figure out which is more in(de)finite: thinking or feeling?