The light in the room was like a sentence filling my voice, my hunger, my house.
And whatever grew from that was a part of myself I never met before
A wild silence
And untamed words

This planèt is choking from the lack of Trees. If we still dont want to understand this then be prepared for out out extermination . And even if wé têt to catch up now the damage causes to the animals and insects are underestimable as their Well being is only a reflection of ours. Therefore if our forests are devasted  then the animal life Will definitely be. Thé smaller insects here plays a role to keep the fragile balance . While wé keep throwing things toxico to Life itself as if wé still have time. Man Will be the cause ..and he alone for rendering thexearth who gave us everything into a dead planet . That Will be it. Our hell.

Either you tell me whats happening or just keep going. I would rather let you play your games on your own  than think You can behave the way you behave and get away each time because i m tolérant . i tolerate a lot of stupidities but at a certain point i have no time To waste. Once : is ok , everyone makes mistakes. Twice:  is already accepting your whims and  disrespect .And thrice ...there wont be no thrice. Because it confirm that its your 'choice 'therefore mine Will be To never open my door. Either you respect me or move out .

80 percent of our healing is based on placebo effects as 80 percent of our illness has been created by us. Before mal This became serious abandonnons us into fatalities.

Whatever wé claim that wé are.  A lot of it came from somewhere. If today wé are alive standing on our two feet it is thanks to those many who lived and died before us to make the understandings of our lives better. Therefore wé can do out best to deny these things but that wont change the facts of our interconnectivities

Cell phone.

Shovel full of lifeless silence.
Imobile and seasonless
In which wé freeze
As if wé ve forgotten how to speak
Not from lack of words
But from like a of autistic whiteness
Blotting out every footprint of our words.
All phrases burried shovel by shovel
As if wé have no elements to turn to.
As if the Trees, the stars ; the day, the night; the waters, the mountains; the birds, the breeze; were all gone.
Removed from the sky now wé admire the sunrises and sunsets in our cell phones.
The state fed serveurs feeds us into obédience.
The he,the she; the you, the me; the ours, the theirs; unplugged.

The apertures of our brains dilates to pixels we gulp voraciously
Wé make love to the machines wé have created
Fidelity promised to our cell phones than to out life partners
Till death masturbates us.

i've known silences without quietness
wars without guns, agonies without categories,

 i ve
hugged momentarily with peace.

Time and time again
I trudged away from personal disasters, some self created, some encountered.

i've collected my battered parts, recovered life in my own terms.

i've held you like a fragment, like a star, a filament....like my ' could have beens '.

i've held you like a memory of enlacing fingers
when love
was simple as the sunshine on the walls.

I have up my ideas of permanent and éternel.
Learnt to sit quiet.
i've been synonymes - darkness and i.
till the moon rose like a songbird in the midst of my words.

Words
they drizzle, they poke, they pirece
they flurry the layers of stillness.

Naming my uncomfort
i cry out
'Look, this is not a wound!'
' This is me !'

Between bleached incoherent phrases
i meet you again
here on an empathic page where i could possibly touch you
Hoping
probably,you could hear me!

i mailed you my letter to an address you can't find
unless your mailbox is
In your heart.

The ink on this page is lifeless

What is alive 
is in my darkness, and its hunger.

i write with my darkness 
hungering for light

Words come into existence 
from a longing to follow the sun.....

a Sun
that rises in the solitary skies of my silence....
a silence i've always been  following obediently.

A silence for angels to come
and dance to its music.

A silence overlooking the bounds of the mind, 
yet, there,
in the very core of daily life
where
thoughts break
into wings of feelings
flying
to find for itself an unnamed world.

Writing is the narration
experiencing the journey.

The events taking place 
takes place intimately within intimacy
of a God smiling in his garden.

Your heart is then lit with candles
and  becomes mute with Happiness.

Ce soir un morceau de ciel est tombé dans l'océan en velours blanc et soie bleue. c'était tellement beau à voir les eaux reçoivent chaque petite goutte de lumière je dis c'est ce qui me fait vivre c'est là que j' envie de m'arrêter de respirer

De combien de façons faites-vous danser le soleil!

Furrow your language.

Transform the gardens on your tongue

Let each Word become alive
where the light falls

And let the furtif dark ink
run through your mémoires
Joining phrases with the colours of your mind.
and collect the river.

You write with your sunlight
about how the world feels inside you.

These
Places i wish i could reach
But cannot.

Maps lost --
where
within me.

At times i feel i m almost there
Missing a gate. A door. Or something inbetween.

What i thought to be so close
Now so far
Even the stars seem near.

Place or  Places
i sought
Through relationships.  Through culture
Through travel . Through occupations
Through what i was taught
Through what i unlearned
Through the eyes of men and women i met
Through the aches of being
Through joys of unbeing
Through efforts.  Through doing
Through not doing
Yet
A returning solitude. A longing
This Call. Whose call
No i know not who calls me
Or where i m called to

Whose voices penetrates my sleep
my wakefulness
They tell me it must be God's
As if they all knew him
As if they all had  their daily  cup of coffee with him. Or Her.

At times, i feel
I m far from home.

I look into the sky
Further ...than furthur

Following This whisper
This whisper
Oh This whisper.