Heres Estrella

More Stars than There are

Tag: hope

Beauty Remains

Chestnut eyes
Glistening like rich amber,
Kissed by the Sun.

Scintillating a luster
so provocative
yet Ancient,

Irresistible is one
to be Entirely pulled
down the Timeless Stream
of Ancestral tales,

Now
All Condensed into
A Pair of Irises,
Shining translucently
In bottomless
Mink—

Such is
Their deeply settled and
Undiluted shade,
That in its Resolve,

Rose a Piercing
Sheen, prudently gazing
Upon the Millennia
In thousands Hitherto,
Or ever after.

Is This
The only Beauty
Tragedy is ill-fitted
to bury
Six-feet-under?

 

Something to Look Forward to

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Spring is surely a most wonderous time of the year, but it is not a cliché comprised of magical healing, nor does it promise total restoration of all that’s wrong with ourselves and the world around us. One could stand amidst sceneries breath-takingly beautiful, and still be haunted by inner shadows convincing him/herself that nothing is alright, that there has been too much wrong for glimpses of hope to realize into change or mending actions. However, if one chooses to see in symbols, drawing connections between observed physicality and metaphysical connotations, then a natural phenomenon like The Spring has much to offer: look at the Dandelion, never planted with intention, even conventionally seen as a pest, a weed that besmirches the neatness of civilized gardens; yet without any positive expectations, they flourish nearly everywhere, scattering on the sidewalks, swaying underneath interstate speedways, and sprouting in the middle church yards (as shown in photograph)—embodying bundles of wishes, waiting for the eventual breeze make them come true. Now think of us, how similar some of our lives may resemble that of the Dandelion—outwardly without deliberate meaning: we don’t know why we are here, or what is expected us on a grand scheme. We are scattered upon our Earth to germinate all over the place like the Dandelions. But does this  mean we ought not to bloom like them and erect our individual bouquets of dreams and ideals out of the soil beneath? Should we do so regardless of how undesirable or lost we think we are? The Dandelions do…then as their not overly distant relatives on this Earth, could we learn to live more as they do? Make a sincere wish for yourselves this year, and send its silky winged seeds sky-bound—may it germinate and sprout into existence when Spring returns again. 

Spring Forgives

Spring was late to smile upon us this year—Her sweetness felt shorter than usual, yet it was just as reassuring as the all the eternal Hope that She embodies. We shall take in full Gratitude what Grace, regardless of how ephemeral,  that She has kindly imparted upon all of us—whether we opened our sleeping eyes to See or not.

Household Dystopia

The Sun, without notice, rises
Upon our individual dystopia;
Garden grown amok, overtaken by
Weeds rampant—intertwined with
Floral carcasses.

A fatal reality of decay, brought forth by
Negligence, perhaps coupled with bright
Streaks of depression, and its consequent sloth—

All the while,
Nothing was there to be done;
No unwinding of this tangled,
Graying yarn—

As we spent days chasing bread,
and slip past nights, nibbling on
Cheese, then poisonously chasing it down,
Not sleeping, but passing into
Unconsciousness, ruing our Daylight gone.

A bundle of rotting Roses,
Burgundy and Brown,
Sitting slanted and splayed
Unfittingly in  a vase oversized—
We are.

Yet here, maybe there; somewhere—
Under the caressing of Morning rays
In pastel, there is a vague, indescribable
Beauty to it all.

A Bond Invincible

bring sets of armor and gear,
crates of nourishment and safety nets
to places barren, chaotic, or unforgiving,
and hope that one shall survive.

one could bring it all,
yet the Only thing
that does not rot, erode,
or become molded over
amidst the commotions
of  endless Wilderness,
remains a True Love’s
Touch.

Verging on Oasis

does the journey across the sand dunes appear much more sacred, and far less futile, when a glimpse of the green pastures comes in view?

Motifs

the same notion can present itself in millions of ways, and we will never cease to be fascinated by it—for all the good reasons in living

Silent Saviors

even in much direction-less times, there are those who come to aid with their calming whispers

Sun, Obscured

               how man obscures itself from the truth with all its constructs

She Washes My Feet

She looks
In dark amber,
Bright eyes—

Watery,
unclouded
Windows—

from them
hidden Purities
of a gray world
are reflected.

No
Heavenly Saint,

But she thanks
for the slightest things,
And Virtues
does she audaciously
Address,

that because of Her,
My feet are rinsed
Ever clean.