I tear bleed every pain from me Hot iron cauterise the wounds I see Stand here in open love and be When echoing hurt demands it from me. Hold my breath whilst flaying me For endless love is all there’ll be
Author Archives: Yaku
Hiding in the moon
Arrivederci
The chilly wind that will take you away, storms in from the far flung west falling down a frozen mountain side hugging me briefly on my abandoned shore before grabbing hold of your dazzling sails. The chilly wind that will take you away, steals a piece of my warm and glowing heart holds it inContinue reading “Arrivederci”
Blasé
The final note disappear into smokey spaces lingering between empty glasses. Longing fingers reaching out for lonely promises reflected on the tired faces. We close our eyes to protect ourselves from the desperate truth of the dying light. Keep the words of our desires hidden behind the walls of many a futile night. All IContinue reading “Blasé”
The Namib
There is a vast space inside of me. Created in the heart of the Namib desert. On a night so dark that you could feel it. A night so quiet that you could hear it. Where I was one with everything. I could not see where I ended and infinity began. Where the stars wereContinue reading “The Namib”
The Knight
The knight, weary and battle scarred Drops his heavy armour to the ground He builds a fire without a single word Exhaling, bends his tired knees to sit He waits No more will he go out from this place No more bloody battles will he fight No more conquering and subjecting No more creating ofContinue reading “The Knight”
The Truth Of Things
In death lies buried the seeds of life. In darkness the light revealed. In defeat the written history of victory. In brokenness the truth about love. In gratitude the bent knee of humility. In my end the first steps of your beginning. I feel the breath of a messenger, spreading over my human skin. DrawingContinue reading “The Truth Of Things”
The Cot
“I carry the bars within me.” ― Franz Kafka It is a very peculiar thing, how some seemingly inconsequential memories will not fade with time. Simply refusing to let go of the grip on your mind long after the context for their existence had faded into the gray mist of forgetfulness. Holding on for dearContinue reading “The Cot”
At the rise.
Where should one start a story? Start, because it’s neither the beginning nor the end but simply the parting of the curtains and story, since we know there are as many truths in the play of life as there are actors on its stage. Let us not even contemplate the views of the audience inContinue reading “At the rise.”
Winter Blossom
In the whitest winter snow, on the darkest withered branch, there grew, a blossom as red as blood. I paused and held my breath, to behold this sight, a miracle, in the land of black and white. With gentle loving hands, I reached out to touch, my fingers, to the satin petals light. On theContinue reading “Winter Blossom”