โ€˜๐Ÿ…ฑ๐Ÿ†„๐Ÿ†ƒ ๐Ÿ††๐Ÿ…ด ๐Ÿ…ผ๐Ÿ…พ๐Ÿ†…๐Ÿ…ดโ€™

philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts

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Hฬถaฬถpฬถpฬถeฬถnฬถsฬถtฬถaฬถnฬถcฬถeฬถ

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

๐˜ž๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ?

๐˜๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง

๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฑ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ

๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ.

 

๐˜Š๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ

๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ,

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ท๐˜ฐ๐˜ช๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด,

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ต ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฆ๐˜ถ๐˜ท๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ

๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ด – ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ.

 

๐˜Š๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ด,

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ๐˜ซ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต

๐˜ฆ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ,

๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ,

๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฅ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ด,

๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ด, ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด.

 

๐˜Š๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ฏ,

๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜บ

๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜จ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜บ, ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ,

๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜บ.

๐˜ˆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ช๐˜ตโ€™๐˜ด ๐˜ด๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ถ๐˜ญ,

๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ด,

๐˜ข ๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ… ๐˜ฐ๐˜ง ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ.

โ–‘Cโ–‘uโ–‘rโ–‘sโ–‘eโ–‘ โ–‘oโ–‘fโ–‘ โ–‘Cโ–‘oโ–‘mโ–‘pโ–‘aโ–‘sโ–‘sโ–‘iโ–‘oโ–‘nโ–‘

Poetry

The curse of compassion,

you find feeling in all,

you embody empathy

so now you feel it all.

Now you feel their joy

and share their pain,

now you taste their laughter

and share their shame.

 

And itโ€™s hard,

oh โ€˜tis so hard.

To love so deep

that one envyโ€™s the sociopath.

And itโ€™s hard,

oh โ€˜tis so hard.

To love so deeply

with a broken heart.

๐Ÿ†ƒ๐Ÿ…ท๐Ÿ…พ๐Ÿ†„๐Ÿ…ถ๐Ÿ…ท๐Ÿ†ƒ๐Ÿ†‚ ๐Ÿ…ฐ๐Ÿ…ฝ๐Ÿ…ณ ๐Ÿ††๐Ÿ…พ๐Ÿ…ฝ๐Ÿ…ณ๐Ÿ…ด๐Ÿ†

Poetry

What misery awaits us,

were a life of sorrow

the reality of living;

I wonder,

could life be worth living,

weโ€™re it not for wonder?


I wonder.

 

What glory escapes us,

were a life of bliss

right within our grip;

I wonder,

could it all be so different,

had we clung to our wonder?


I wonder.

 

 

Busy For The Moment

Poem, Poetry

For a moment it things were bliss.

For a moment I heard the birds.

For a moment my visions were coloured,

for just a moment, forever were a grasp away.

I were the lively one

and you were coy,

for a moment, if only a moment,

we felt peace and we experienced joy.

โ€˜Enoughโ€™

Insight, Poem, Poetry

You say itโ€™s enough,

you think things can change

if you say it enough,

itโ€™s incrementally better,

but thatโ€™s never enough.

 


You bury the feeling,

it pains one so much,

irrational decisions, burn the love,

they said all would change

but thatโ€™s never enough.

 

Busy In Wonder โœ๐Ÿพ
Asya Valentine

Neighbours

Poetry

There your neighbour stands

and here you compare your hand

to your neighbours hand.

They followed the script,

your script was sabotaged,

yes they followed the script

but theyโ€™re still dissatisfied.

 

Itโ€™s just that your injustice

to you, is always more magnified.

And thatโ€™s life, I understand.

 

But they have life too.

They hope and dream,

just like you,

they over work and under sleep,

just like you;

harp on โ€˜what could have beenโ€™

just like you,

a happenstance separates them from despair

and any second, should something happen, they could be just like you.

 

Look at your neighbour,

see that theyโ€™re just like you.

You have fears, they have anxiety too,

they feel annexed from society too.

They feel the burden of working for about half of what they should be earning;

they lost a loved one too, youโ€™re not the only person.

 

Your neighbours just like you,

and their neighbours just like them,

so theyโ€™re just like you.

Hereโ€™s to solidarity.

Kin

Poetry

Look no further beyond yourself,

all matter is subjective,

if so then all subject is fatuous,

If we are to truly credit

the individualism of liberalism.

 

Faux outrage, more cynicism

gratifying the little picture,

sacrificing the bigger picture,

silently stare as society folds,

forgetting that weโ€™re all in the picture.

 

Look far beyond,

beyond perceived notions of want,

beyond greed, beyond individual dreams.

Look to all that is lost,

as individualism grows and itโ€™s no longer โ€˜weโ€™.

 

Search outside yourself,

live for your brother, sister, friend, lover,

your kin.

It takes thousands of souls to make a mark,

Yet change it starts within.

Busy in Wonder… #JC4PM

philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts

A chance at hope,

a new deal for the downtrodden.

A chance for the maligned and forgotten,

smell the air of change a brand new promise.

 

Broken homes, broken dreams for a nation on the edge,

pain and turbulence, suffering and chaos, by design not an act of nature.

Opportunity stripped our systems rotten,

if all is broken we must look to economics.

 

War in foreign lands,

war on drugs…

a nation divided,

we must cease all the violence

and tackle the climate.

 

Time to march,

time to occupy,

time to vote.

Cash in on due change,

todayโ€™s the time for hope.

Busy in wonder: Who Knows, Maybe Iโ€™ll See The Glass Half full…

Insight, philosophy, thoughts, Uncategorized

If only for myself I write these thoughts, Iโ€™ll write yet more, to satisfy my own yearn for expression, my own desire to be heard, to matter, to be greater than the some of my parts. I know that my mirror reflects a man greater than itโ€™s shown, a man with potential untapped and projections uncapped. I see a man of honour, I see a man of trust and wisdom. A man whoโ€™s allowed experience to guide him but knowledge to shape him. I see him stand, I see him speak, compassionate and firm, a glaring light.

Yet still most days I wonder. Most days Iโ€™m aware of who I am, who I was and who I would like to be – and I wonder, had my previous self been a little more free, free to think free to read, free to learn, free to be; and he had stood before that mirror would he see what I now see? And if that be true, then had time been wasted? Maybe. Or maybe itโ€™s the experience that allows context to be applied to new knowledge. Maybe itโ€™s the pain, maybe itโ€™s the memories, maybe itโ€™s the thoughts that only I can access, in the darkest corners of pneuma that even allow such a reflection to be possible.

These moments lead me to think that my vision isnโ€™t in-spite of experience, but tethered to memory of all ilk. What I mean is that hope is a result of understanding ones experience and supplementing that with knowledge. Iโ€™m saying that growth in and of itself is doomed vanity hunt. For I could educate myself one thousand times over, make all the right decisions on paper and still not be a better Asya.

Hope is my wonder and Iโ€™ll be forever busy…