The lost "ME"

Those were the times,
when the moonlight shone with all its glory
and the poems
I’d written -
sparkled;
as though
specters outlined the hues
without substance
when words came,
wearing forever an affable guise of
earthly bliss.

I missed my friends, companions, lovers
one fine day..
their scent came...!
lingering musically in the horizon-
how far away,
close to silence,
and yet; so very clear

I wait near the window
looking at the stars.
as if they are,
the testimonials of immortal pain-
the pain which crawls under my skin.

my face shows the
amiable signs which survive
everything that was exquisite,
remains behind
the enduring the i faced under celestial veil

and meanwhile,
my only solace exists
in resurrection of
memory, the aftertaste and reflection of
the body which had sinned, but the spirit
redeemed ..

I scribble these verses,
only to tear ‘em up,
throw the ramblings unread
into a fire

and yet, you never know..
as the blistered pages sparkle
dwindling into
smoke which feels like heaven..

feels like life...
life which I have to see..
live...
bear..
and walk alone...


--------------

I feel lonely!

Me Against Myself-again!

I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it -- I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know -- but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me. I am me, and I am Okay.”