Tag: healing

Flowers

I have seen flowers bloom in valleys, and I have seen them bloom in deserts –
One is not more beautiful than the other.

One woke up to the golden sun, cradled in the silver rain’s soft lullaby,
The other needed to snake through corpses of its predecessors to taste the breeze dancing above the soil.
But both the valley-born and the desert-forged ended up in the same bouquet a boy gave me yesterday.
And I couldn’t help but admire them equally,
though I forgot to ask who suffered more.

They say it’s the journey that matters, not the destination.
But do we truly care about anyone’s journey or healing?
To the observer, a flower is a flower; its story forgotten beneath its petals.
The assiduous journey of the desert flower, with all its setbacks, means everything to itself and nothing to the vase.

So I wonder:
Would it be such a loss if the flower never broke through the sand?
Would it be less of a tragedy if it never bloomed at all?

Twin Flames

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“Her eyes bared her soul,” he pondered,

“He had a way with words,” she recalled.

And although they stood right in front of each other,

They walked past each other once more.
There he was, the life of the party; there she was, the mysterious heartthrob.

Their souls, shuddering with distant memories, bowed quietly in awe.

Here’s to playing the game again, the game of mirror souls.

The one that got away last time, the one you needed to hold.
Like psychedelic moths dancing around twin flames, burning millennia inside,

Like kindred spirits that warm the heart, like magnets that bind.

Their eyes lock once again bewitched, eternities intertwine,

And clocks have reset yet again, time watching the charade unwind.
For the souls may forget as they transcend, still the yearning intensifies

And every time they pass each other, the singe deepens in ravines.

It’s dangerous when you get the taste, to have your heart tamed auld lang syne,

Will they take the leap of faith; will they realize they're soulmates this time?
“But her eyes bared her soul…” he pondered,

“And he had a way with words…” she recalled.

Neither said a word yet again,

Another lifetime fell short.