Bird Call

Poetry
@busyinwonder

Like the Autumn Leaves

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized
@busyinwonder

Busy In Wonder

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized
@busyinwonder

Who would have thought?

Poetry
@busyinwonder

In The Name Of Gratitude

Poetry
@busyinwonder

I saw,

I heard,

I wrote as the world

Continued to tilt.

Through chaos new lines

Were built,

Through tears

New pastures grew.

I sat still to study you,

So with words I could honour you

For all of the things that brothers do.

The things no others would do.

And for that I’m grateful.

Asya Valentine, BusyInWonder

Paper Cuts

Poetry
@busyinwonder

10:43am – The Human Tapestry

Insight, philosophy, thoughts

These last few years I have really started to understand how connected we all are. The worst idea to capture humanity is the idea that we are individuals, the notion that their can be individual joy that ignores the collective. It’s not possible to exist in a vacuum, nor is it desirable. It is the shallowness of ego, the delusion that you, I, or we alone matter.

I see now the reality of connectivity, that I exists solely in my relation to others. Whether that be in the immediate effect, with friends, loved ones and family, or in the more abstract sense of the child who knits my socks. It’s not to say that we cannot be different, but it’s to say that our joy is universal and our pain is ordinary. The hopes, dreams and desires that you hold are held in many hearts just like yours. Just like mine.

In ways, we are like one life. For nothing exists on its own, yet we choose to live in ignorance of one another, we choose to see our struggle as a recluse, instead of the rallying cry for justice in our shared experience. But choices are ours to make, so choices are ours to change.

Asya Valentine, Busy In Wonder

The Way You Made It – NHE Tales

Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized
@busyinwonder

A Thousand More

Poetry
@busyinwonder

The Forever Oath

Poetry

I continue in service of memory,

My debt settled in honour,

For the light that pierced

Through horror.

For in the abyss, the

Concrete desert lived a nomad.

A fitting place for

The truly deserted.

A modest life,

One riddled with burden,

A soul littered in pain,

Yet it was love you worshiped.

In that shadow I lurk,

In your shadow I learnt,

Now in your honour I work

And your memory I serve.

Asya Valentine, Busy In Wonder